Honour Bound
by Miss Puppet
Summary: With the arrival of wounded soldiers to Downton, the war becomes even more of a reality. And still life continues. People fall in love, get married, laugh and cry together, keep their secrets or finally find the courage to share them. Multiple pairings.
1. Chapter 1

**Honour bound  
><strong>_Rated_: K+  
><em>Pairings<em>: Bates/Anna, Cora/Robert, Edith/Sir Antony, Carson/Hughes, William/Daisy and a few surprises down the road.  
>Disclaimer: It could not be less mine. Julian Fellowes wrote Downton Abbey, which is produced by Carnival Films for ITV Network. This disclaimer applies for the whole story.<br>_Spoilers_: I recommend you to have seen the first season. This story is a follow up to my other fic ´A token of honour.´ You might want to read that as well .  
><em>Summary<em>: Basically my view on how I would like season 2 to enfold. With the arrival of wounded soldiers to Downton, the war becomes even more of a reality. And yet, life continues as well. People fall in love, get married, keep their secrets or finally find the courage to share them, cry and laugh together. It´s a sequel to ´A token of honour´ but can be read separately. ´A token of honour´ focused mainly on the relationship between Mr Bates and Anna, this story is more labelled general with romance, hurt, comfort, humour, drama and action thrown in.

_A/N: So this is the continuation of ´A token of honour´. Many thanks go to my wonderful beta-reader _**Stuckinpast**_. Without her impecable knowledge of Edwardian England the story would have been a laughing stock. _

**Chapter 1**  
><em>January 1916<em>

The war had come to Downton at last. By the end of 1915, the first boatloads of many, many wounded soldiers had returned to Britain. Soon the regular hospitals had filled and became over filled with casualties. Downton hospital was one of the first to reach it´s maximal capacity. Many men from the area had volunteered to go in the first months of the war since the enlistment campaign in Downton had been particularly relentless. The return of the wounded soldiers, with their stories and eyes filled with horror brought the reality of the war even closer.

As it became clear that Downton hospital could not possible place another bed, Lord and Lady Grantham immediately offered Downton to be used as a convalescent home. And so the drawing room was emptied, stripped and refurnished as a hospital ward.

For Lord Grantham turning his home into a hospital was a deed of great significance. His work at the war office in London had ceased to fulfil him a long time ago. The strain of feeling useless and redundant, knowing full well that he was considered too old to go into active fighting again, ate at him. Opening his house to provide care to those who had served their country so courageously gave him a strong sense of involvement. It also allowed him to return to his beloved house and gather his loved ones around him once again. Edith, although now married, lived close by. Sybil, who had spent most of the year in London to be trained as a nurse, was to return as well. She could be a nurse in her own home and Robert was deeply glad of it. Sybil had always been somewhat of a favourite to him, although he would deny it to dead. Having her close, being able to watch over her caring, but passionate ways gave him some much needed rest.

And then there was Mary. Mary, who looked everyday more like her strong-willed, proud, intelligent mother. Mary, who caused him so much worry… Mary, who he had failed so badly. Mary, who he wanted to give the world, but could only urge into a suitable marriage. If only she would a accept a kind, suitable man. Once he had entertained high hopes that she would fall for Matthew Crawley.

It would have been perfect. His heir and his beautiful eldest daughter as the next Lord and Lady Grantham. He would have more than fulfilled his duty to the estate, to his ancestors. But Matthew seemed to be out of the picture completely. Certainly after the arrival of that dashing American friend of Cora's.

He was glad to be home again. At least here at Downton he could provide some shelter, some protection from the madness of the world.

* * *

><p>Isobel Crawley came to Downton as well. Officially she still resided at Crawley house, but once Downton had become an emergency hospital ward she had made it clear she would rather help here then at the hospital and Dr Clarkson had grudgingly agreed. He certainly wasn´t keen on seeing her go. Isobel Crawley may be stubborn, opinionated and sometimes downright interfering, she was also kind, caring and an exemplary good nurse. One could hardly help but like Isobel Crawley, her warmth and cheerful personality could win over the most rigid heart. In the first, dark months of 1916 the first beds filled with young soldiers, some of them who had barely outgrown boyhood.<p>

They lay there, broken, wounded, only a little life left in them. Far too little to face today, let alone tomorrow. Isobel Crawley moved between the beds, with grace and determination, dressing wounds, administering morphine, changing bandages and holding the men, around the age of her son, who cried for the loss of their friends, their life, their health and their future. Within weeks there was not a single person who wasn´t amazed by her vigour and steadfastness. The staff treated her with the utmost respect and admiration and Sybil, who had only become a qualified nurse very recently, followed her like a shadow, trying to absorb as much of the elder woman´s experience and knowledge as she could.

Since Downton was now a hospital it had been appointed its own physician, a Dr Timothy Wellington from Manchester. He was well in his fifties, quiet and reserved and extremely formal. But despite this, within a few days after his arrival he had become well liked, particularly of Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes. He was polite, obliging and seemed to manage himself without any difficulty in the difficult position of being half a guest and half an employee. He treated the staff with respect, was quiet but friendly with young maids and amiable with the more senior members of staff. He acted cordial towards the family, always displaying a great sense of decorum.

Until it came to Mrs Crawley. Initially, Isobel had been thrilled when she learned Dr Wellington had been appointed to Downton. She remembered him from her time in Manchester were he had been a close colleague of her late husband. Upon seeing him again at Downton, she´d greeted him with an outstretched hand and a warm smile.

´Dr Wellington, it is wonderful to see you again, even despite the circumstances,´ she had told him earnestly.

He seemed to freeze instantly, his face hardening and his movements becoming stiff. ´Mrs Crawley…´ he barely grazed the outstretched hand. ´How do you do?´ The tone of his voice displayed so much coldness that even Isobel seemed taken aback.

After that first, awkward greeting was over, an unsteady working relationship formed between the two of them. Dr Wellington appeared to be the only one who was wholly indifferent to her manners and personality, and remained aloof and cold. The staff and family wondered about it for a bit and then shrugged it off as a case of instant dislike on his side and tried to navigate between the two of them as much as possible.

* * *

><p>Strange how life continues, despite the terror of the war, Anna mused while folding Lady Mary and Lady Sybil´s clothes. Even in a time of war and terror people fell in love, got married and managed to find their own bliss. Lady Edith was married now, since her misunderstanding with Sir Anthony Strallan had finally been resolved. Anna still grinned and blushed as she remembered how she – unwillingly – had become part in a scheme of getting them finding their way back to each other.<p>

In July 1915 Lord Grantham had returned from his stay in London for a short period of leave. Although being back at Downton never meant he could turn away from the war. Almost every evening he entertained guests to discuss the current state of events and the consequences for those left behind. Although in this case the term ´entertained´ was to be applied loosely. The atmosphere was tight and grim, and grew to be more so as the war seemed to progress and showed no signs of ending any time soon.

Therefore Anna had been greatly surprised when one morning Lady Sybil had cornered her outside the library, seemingly barely able to contain her excitement.

´Whatever is the matter, milady?´ she asked, astonished.

Lady Sybil gestured for her to lower her voice and replied in a half-whisper: ´Sir Anthony Strallan has arrived… he´s in the library as we speak.´

Anna remembered with a pang of pity Lady Edith´s heartbroken face as the man had suddenly walked out of her life a year ago. ´Does Lady Edith know he would come today?´ she asked quietly.

´She does, she was informed this morning,´ Lady Sybil replied, her eyes twinkling mischievously. ´Once she heard she didn´t know how quickly she should leave the house. She´d do anything to avoid him.´

´Why is he even here?´ Anna couldn´t help but asking. ´Does his Lordship know?´

´Oh yes…´ Sybil waved her hand impatiently. ´Papa invited him to talk some matters over… something about investing in machinery, now so many farmhands are gone… but more importantly, I had a talk with Mary a little while ago and I now know why Sir Anthony never proposed… and I think I know how I can fix it. I just need your help.´

A definite feeling of apprehension dawned on Anna. She´d never been much of a matchmaker. She believed firmly in just honestly telling your feelings and deal with the consequences, instead of the scheming and manipulating that Lady Sybil apparently was up to.

Something of her reluctantly must have been shown on her face, because Lady Sybil´s voice became pleading. ´Please Anna… you don´t have to do anything, really. Just follow my lead.´

Without waiting for an answer, Lady Sybil pulled her inside the library and they hid behind a large bookcase. It was an open bookcase and over the top of the books Anna could see Sir Anthony sitting all by himself in a large armchair. He was obviously waiting for the arrival of Lord Grantham.

Meanwhile Lady Sybil was positively gloating with ill-concealed excitement. ´Anna, have you ever…´ she began , her voice just that bit louder than strictly necessary for Anna to hear, making sure it was actually Sir Anthony who heard her, ´… been in the position where you pulled a prank on someone only to have it going disastrously wrong?´

´You´d better ask Miss O´Brien instead of me,´ was the first thought that came to Anna´s mind, but she bit it back and answered in an uncertain voice: ´Not that I recall, milady.´

Sybil gave her a big grin before continuing: ´Well, Mary told me she has pulled a prank on Edith once that had gone very wrong… ´

From their hidden spot, Anna could see Sir Anthony shifting uncomfortably in his chair. She could well understand how he was feeling. She was close to fidgeting herself. Lady Sybil gave her a nudge and her eyes implored her to speak.

´Wha… what happened?´ Anna closed her eyes, wishing desperately to be anywhere else but here.

´Well…´ Sybil´s voice was practically booming. ´Mary told one of Edith´s suitors that Edith thought him to be boring and annoying. It was just a joke you see, but unfortunately… ´Lady Sybil had to make a great effort to make her voice sound regretful. ´Unfortunately this man took her words seriously and he left.´

´How dreadful for Lady Edith,´ Anna exclaimed in earnest, momentarily forgetting the situation. As much as she cared for Lady Mary there was not a single doubt in her mind that Lady Mary had not been joking at all. Acting as a ladies maid to the girls for years, Anna was fully aware of the deep rivalry that consisted between the two eldest sisters. From the corner of her eye she could see Sir Anthony sitting his chair, looking absolutely flabbergasted.

´It was,´ Lady Sybil answered smiling broadly. `Lady Edith was terribly upset about it. She still is in fact…´ barely able to contain her laughter she pushed Anna out of the library again and once safely in the corridor collapsed into a fit of giggles.

´Thank you, Anna,´ she managed finally. ´You were wonderful.´

´Glad to be of service, milady.´ Anna had replied wryly and had disappeared as quickly as she could, feeling mortified beyond words. The only good thing about it was that John at least had gotten a good laugh out of it later that evening.

In the end, extraordinary as it was, Sybil´s meddling had a most satisfactorily result: Sir Anthony had renewed his addresses to Edith, who returned them at the first sign of appearance, and they were married only four months later.

**I´d like to hear your thoughs, so drop a line if you´ve got the time!**


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thank you for the lovely reviews and alerts! Cora and Robert pulled the same stunt Elsie and Charles will do later in the story: they completely took over! It was meant to be a short pharagraph about their happy marriage, before I knew it they had filled a chapter! _

**Chapter 2**_**  
><strong>February 1916_

Mary was finally married. That was the thought that stood out most in Cora´s mind. The day had been long and tiring and she felt exhausted, but still couldn´t sleep. Giving up every pretence, she´d got out of bed and sat herself in the low windowsill of the bedroom she and Robert shared for twenty-eight years now.

Twenty-eight years… had it really been that long? It seemed only yesterday she was introduced to Robert Crawley, future heir of Downton Abbey and the title of Lord Grantham. Her mother had been thrilled beyond measure. Her ambition of getting her only daughter married into the British aristocracy suddenly more within the grasp of reality than ever before. Their meeting at a performance of ´The taming of the Shrew´ during the London season of 1875 had been entirely arranged by her eager parents.

Upon her mother´s insistence she – and her mother´s lady's maid – had spent a full afternoon preparing for it. By the time she had descended the stairs of the Standard Theatre she felt very much like an over-groomed poodle.

And there he was, handsome in his evening attire, his hair still thick, dark and wavy. He bowed, she curtsied, he formally asked if he could escort her in, she agreed with a polite smile, he took her hand and lead her to their box.

They sat next to each other during the performance – naturally. She had flirted lightly with him and he had met her sometimes insolent witty remarks with his own dry humour. She had been pleasantly surprised by his kind nature and charming manners. She knew how much his father, Lord Grantham**, **and her own parents favoured the match and all in all she decided that fate could have bestowed someone much worse on her.

After that first meeting they had met often during the season. There had been balls, concerts, assemblies, an occasional morning walk… and somewhere during those frequent, but short moments they were together she began to see him in a different light. She realized she looked forward to meeting him, always keeping an eye out for him. Around the same time she also realized she considered him to be the most handsome man of her acquaintance. Every time he spoke to her in that dark voice of his she felt her spine tingle and the way his eyes moved over her face when they spoke together send her heart rate into overdrive.

Once, when they were walking through Hyde Park she had tripped over and in reflex he had grabbed her waist to steady her. Being the perfect gentleman he had of course immediately apologised for taking such liberties, but half an hour later she could still feel the touch of his hand on her waist burning in her skin, even through three layers of clothing and a corset. It was then she realised she had fallen in love with him.

In the weeks that followed she watched him closely. Although he was friendly and courteous towards her, she could in all honesty not detect any signs of true affection. She knew she didn´t suffer from any false sense of modesty. He liked her, but he didn´t love her.

Nevertheless, when the end of the season was nearing he requested and was granted a private interview in which he asked her to become his wife. He spoke of his regard for her, promised her his loyalty and he offered her a future. She had looked at him, knowing him to be honest and noble. But she had to ask.

´Robert…´ In this private moment she felt entitled to use his Christian name. ´Do you love me – are you in love with me?´

He rose from his chivalrous position on one knee and spluttered. ´I… that is to say… I care deeply for you… I respect you…´

´I know you do,´ she´d answered him calmly. ´But do you love me?´

He had sighed deeply and looked down before answering. ´My actions are guided by sense rather than emotions. I have a duty to my estate, to my ancestors and I will strive to do anything to be worthy of that task…´

´So you want to marry me for my dowry?´ She didn´t sound offended or accusing, she merely stated a fact.

´Yes… no…´ He was clearly thinking she was being deliberately hard on him. ´Of course it´s a factor. But I would not have asked you to marry me if I couldn´t stand the sight of you, dowry or no dowry. I believe we will make a good match, Cora. No, I´m not in love with you, but you´ve grown very dear to me in the short time I´ve known you. I am sure we can become very happy.´

She could at least admire his honesty. That left her only one question: ´Is there someone else you love? Some penniless creature you´d rather be with?´

´No!´ he replied vehemently. ´Of course there isn´t! How can you say that?´

´It has happened,´ she answered drily. ´Robert, I can accept you don´t love me, at least not yet. But I will not,´ she emphasized the last two words, ´share your life, your house, your bed while you are pining for someone else.´

To his credit comprehension dawned on his face and he looked her straight in the eye. ´There is no one else but you, Cora. If you´ll have me I vow to be faithful to you and you alone.´

´Thank you,´ she said, giving him the smallest of smiles. ´I´ll give you my answer tomorrow.´

She´d spend the night tossing and turning, trying to form a decision. She loved him, but he didn´t love her… yet. She realised the enormous risk she was taking. What if he never returned her feelings? What if he met someone he could love? Could she really be happy spending her life with a man who held her in high regard but nothing more?

On the other hand, she had never shied away from a challenge. And his reluctance now only increased her own determination. She would make Robert Crawley fall in love with her. She also knew how much her parents wanted their union and she was eager to get away from the overbearing presence of her mother. She longed for her own home and Oxfordshire was probably far enough to keep her mother at an easy distance.

And so she decided to marry him. Years later she marvelled at the confidence of her nineteen-year- old self. At the time she had truly and fully believed that she could make it work, that she could have the life and love she wanted.

Of course it hadn´t been easy at first. Britain was so much different from New York. And suddenly becoming mistress of an estate as grand as Downton had its challenges.

Finally being relieved from the constant scrutinizing of her own mother, she now found herself being watched constantly by the hawk eyes of her formidable mother in law, the Dowager Countess of Grantham. Thankfully she had find allies as well, mostly in the form of her practical lady´s maid, Mrs Elinor Carson. Under her subtle guidance Cora had quickly learned the ropes around Downton, claiming her position as the new Countess of Grantham.

She took a genuine interest in the workings of the house. She visited every tenant in the village and strived to get to know her staff. She knew how worried the widowed Mrs Carson was about the whereabouts of her only son Charles who seemed to be in London. Although she never quite figured out what he was doing there. And she tried to remember the names of and be friendly to the servants she dealt with on a daily bases, from the footmen to the young, nervous housemaid Rosie Mills.

Her marriage to Robert was a happy one, for the most part. He was an attentive husband and – much to her surprise- turned out to be a passionate lover. He never gave up their honeymoon routine of sharing a bed together, and she didn´t complain. In fact, she loved his warm body behind hers during the night and his strong arms around her. It made her love him even more.

But after those first few happy months of their marriage she had begun to worry. Robert still showed no signs of true affection. He was loyal and loving in his own way, but she wanted – needed more. She wanted him to love her as she loved him. At night, when he held her close and fell asleep, his face buried in her hair, she sometimes cried silent tears, feeling further away from him than ever, while lying in his arms.

On an afternoon, a year into her marriage she missed the last step of the stairs she was descending and had landed square on her bottom on the floor of the hallway, much to her embarrassment. Her being four months pregnant with Mary at the time had caused a great uproar among the staff. Within seconds the butler was shouting orders, maids were running, Mrs Carson came dashing down the stairs, almost giving a repeat performance and footmen were hurrying about, calling doctors. She was carefully carried into the drawing room between a footman and Mr Davis, the butler. Mrs Carson fussed over her with tea, blankets, cushions and smelling salts and within ten minutes the cook presented her with a slice of chocolate cake the size of a dinner tray. Trying again and again to ensure her distressed staff that – apart from a severely bruised sense of dignity and one particular body part there was nothing the matter with her, the commotion only increased when Robert literally came running into the drawing room, looking as pale as a sheet.

From what he told her later, he had been outside, inspecting the grounds when Rosie, who´d fled the house in blind panic, had ran into him, sobbing hysterically and panting that her ladyship had fallen from the stairs. Robert had immediately envisioned the broken body of his wife and unborn child lying at the bottom of the stairs in all sorts of unnatural angles and had ran inside, leaving poor Rosie on the lawn bawling her heart out.

Once inside the drawing room he had taken one look at Cora – who was by then sitting somewhat comfortably on a large, cushy pillow, attentively provided by Mrs Carson– rushed over to her and landed flat on his knees in front of her chair. He´d gripped her hands tightly, his eyes searching her face and body. ´Are you alright, dearest? Are you hurt? Rosie told me you took a fall from the stairs… should I call for a doctor ? Are you in any pain?´

Her embarrassment caused her to laugh. ´Robert, I´m fine! Nothing to concern yourself with. I just missed the last step of the stairs, that´s all.´

He seemed to calm down a little at that, but still he held her hands in a tight grip. ´Are you certain I should not call a doctor?´

She smiled reassuringly this time. ´Please, I´ve just finally convinced Davis I don´t need a physician, don´t you start as well.´ Then a thought entered her mind and her face sobered considerably. ´I don´t think anything is wrong with the baby, if that´s what you´re worried about. But if you insist we can of course summon Dr Clarkson.´ Of course his worry concerned the welfare of his potential heir, she thought darkly. She should have known.

But he only frowned in surprise and shook his head slowly. ´I don´t think that´s necessary if you don´t think it is. As long as you´re alright…´

´I´m fine!´ she assured him again, giving his hand a small tug to get him to his feet. After that he still needed a large cup of tea – with a morbid amount of sugar, she noticed to her horror – and a generous helping of the chocolate cake to fully calm his nerves. He remained close to her for the rest of the afternoon and evening, hovering over her and asking her every five minutes if she was still alright. He also couldn´t seem to stop touching her. He held her hand, brushed her shoulders when he rearranged the blanket around her, he held her hand again, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ears, he took her hand again. Despite the fact that she thoroughly enjoyed being the centre of his universe for an afternoon and evening, his actions left her somewhat bewildered as well. And all the time the little term of endearment that had unconsciously slipped from him sang inside her… _dearest… dearest… dearest…_

When it was finally time to retire to bed she waited for him to join her, and sure enough, after a few minutes, the door of their bedroom opened and revealed him standing on the doorstep, clad in his pyjamas and dressing gown. To her surprise he made no attempt to come in. ´I thought I´d better sleep in my dressing room,´ he explained softly. ´You probably need your rest after today.´

And that was the moment she became completely fed up with the entire situation. ´For the very last time…´ she began in a dangerously low voice, ´I am perfectly fine apart from a very sore bottom, a rather bruised ego and a complete exasperation with the big hoopla everyone is making out of this. Get into our bed now, Robert Crawley!´

He grinned adorably and within seconds he had discarded the dressing gown, slipped underneath the sheets and blown out the candle. Contrary to his normal habit, he did not take her in his arms but lay beside her, staring at the ceiling. Slowly the silent room began to fill with tension. Finally he reached out and took her hand in his own.

´Cora…´ he whispered, his voice sounding hoarse.

Even if her life depended on it, she couldn´t have made a reply and so she waited for him to continue.

´… I am embarrassed to say I didn´t even think about the baby until you mentioned it this afternoon.´

´Oh…´ she managed only.

´When I heard you had taken a tumble from the stairs I was out of my mind with fear…´ his voice cracked and it took a few moments before he was able to go on. ´I couldn´t bear it if something happened to you… if I lost you… I just couldn´t bear it…´

´Oh Robert…,´ she was in his arms instantly, hugging him, kissing his face and comforting him. ´I´m perfectly fine, it was just a silly accident.´

He responded immediately by wrapping his arms around her, pulling her as close as he possibly could. His lips moved through her hair and across her temple and her cheek and at last he said the words she had longed to hear for so long. ´I love you…I love you…´

He finally kissed her, long and passionate and as he continued to show her just how much he loved her, her last coherent thought was that she could take her sore bottom for granted.

* * *

><p>She smiled softly, looking at the sleeping form of her husband. She´d taken a gamble, but it had been worth it. She could look back now on twenty-eight happy years with the man she loved even more than she did on the first day she met him. She could only hope her eldest daughter would be so lucky as well.<p>

Mary certainly hadn´t loved George Vandyck at first sight. Then again, she never did. Mary kept her heart closely guarded, so close it almost seemed impossible to reach. Once Matthew Crawley had been able to penetrate her icy exterior, but proud, independent Mary had become too hesitant, too cowardly all of a sudden and Matthew had left. Back to Manchester at first, and then to France. He had been among the first to enlist.

It had taken months before Mary´s heart was ready to heal, and sometimes Cora even wondered if it had healed fully. Despite her faults, despite her haughtiness and pride Mary had loved Matthew earnestly and deeply. He was her first love and some of that love would probably remain with her always.

Walter Vandyck and his son George had visited Downton in the autumn of 1915, while Robert was at the London war office. For Cora it had been a relief to meet and reminisce with her old friend from New York. They spend hours in the drawing room, talking about the old days, reliving memories and sharing tidbits of news from a world now gone. In a way it had been an escape from the gruesome reality of war they now found themselves in.

The Vandycks belonged to the ´old line´. Their ancestors had been among the first Dutch pioneers who had settled in New Amsterdam around 1660. They had been tradesmen whose wealth had grown fast and steady. Because of their old blood and money, the Vandycks had always been part of the highest social circles in New York. And now, three hundred years after Dirk van Dyck had set foot in the New World, his great great grandson Walter was a successful banker on Wall Street. He could even boast on the fact that he had managed to survive the Banker´s Panic of 1907 with hardly a scratch. They were a respectable, wealthy family with a home on Park Avenue and a summer retreat in Newport.

Between Sybil being away to become trained as a nurse, and Edith, who could only talk about wedding dresses, guest lists and dinner setting, Mary had become rather lonely and rather open to anyone who could provide her with an intelligent conversation. And George Vandyck proved to be up to the task. He was fresh from Harvard University, eager to follow in his father footsteps and become as, or hopefully even more successful. He was tall, muscular, amusing, well-read and charming. And he wanted a wife.

He and Mary talked for hours about New York. He painted her the city in words. The natural greenery of Central Park, the thrilling atmosphere at Wall Street, the magnificence of Trinity Church. He described the beautiful drives he took in his Rolls Royce to Westchester County and Bedford. He talked about the clubs and society life of New York, he shared anecdotes of famous names Mary had only heard whispers about. Vanderbilt… Master… J.P. Morgan… And somewhere in between all his stories Mary lost her heart again.

Sometimes Cora wondered if Mary had fallen in love with the man or with his city. She knew Mary would do well in New York. There was nothing left for her in London society. The whispers of scandal concerning Kemal Pamuk had never completely quiet down, not even in light of the war.

During their engagements, Cora had watched the couple closely. There was enough love between them to sustain them, but what was more, there was the dream of a new future, a new beginning in a city where everything seemed possible. Where old demons could be laid to rest and a new life could begin.

And so today they were married. Despite the war it had been a rather grand affair. After all, she was the eldest daughter of Lord and Lady Grantham. The newly-wed couple had left for their honey- moon immediately. A very permanent honeymoon, Cora realised. They´d gone to New York and as long as the war lasted, it was unlikely she would see her daughter again. She was happy her daughter was married, relieved even… but she would miss her terribly.

But she knew she did not stand alone in this sentiment. Upon realizing that her marriage meant Mary would move to New York permanently, Robert had been almost reluctant to give his consent.

And then there was the Dowager Countess, who could be accused of many things, but not of being overly sentimental. Cora was still mollified as he remembered the scene at the end of the evening, when the whole party, guest and servants alike had gathered in front of the house to see the car that would bring Mr and Mrs Vandyck to the harbour off. The farewell had been decidedly teary. She herself had had the tears streaming down her cheeks. But she was the mother of the bride, she was allowed to be emotional. Poor Robert – and to her surprise dear Carson- had to put up a lot more of a struggle. But the most remarkable sight had been the face of Violet. Of course she had been too proud, too collected to actually cry, but Cora had noticed how her eyes grow moist and how her lips had trembled. Caught in a wave of empathy for her mother-in-law she had stepped up beside her and placed her hand on her arm.

´I dare say they will be very happy together,´ she had said soothingly.

The Dowager Countess´ voice had sounded collected and sarcastic as ever when she replied: ´Be that as it may, I have never disliked Americans as heartily as I do now.´

* * *

><p><em>AN: Sorry… no Matthew/Mary… I´m afraid I´ve got another story-line worked out.  
>As to the Vandyck family background:<br>First of all, I can´t help but feeling a little patriotic. Go team Dutch!  
>Secondly<em>_, __Edward Rutherfurd__´s wonderful book ´__New York__´ helped a great deal in writing this chapter._

**As always, I very much like to hear what you think. So if you want, drop me a line! **


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: I had to watch a lot of London hospital to write the operation scene. If you don´t like too graphic medical details or if you´ll have to undergo surgery in the nearby future, you´ll might want to skip that bit.  
>The IsobelElsie friendship is a creation of _**Lavender and Hay**_, the commanding admiral of the Carson/Hughes ship ;-) But she´s graciously let me to borrow the idea and I owe her big time for it!  
>Thanks again for all the lovely reviews and alerts! <em>

**Chapter 3  
><strong>_March 1916_

She would never grow entirely used to the sight of soldiers walking on the lawn, Cora mused while she made her way to the library. Over the last month their convalescent home had become rather filled again. Despite theiroften severe injuries most of them insisted on wearing their uniform, despite the fact that most of them had been discharged from active duty. Some were not yet able to move from their beds, others scampered around with great difficulty, using crutches and canes for support. Every time a fresh bash of wounded men arrived the moral among the patients seemed to drop considerably. The new men, fresh from the battleground, their eyes still filled with the horrors they had witnessed, some only days ago triggered the trauma of the men who had been residing at Downton for a longer time. During the night when she couldn´t sleep – and insomnia seemed to have become a rather close friend of hers lately – she could hear the men cry out as they were plagued by nightmares or the pain of their wounds. Cora shivered slightly and hastened her pace. After the original had been changed into a ward, the library now served as a drawing room as well these days. Cora found her husband sitting behind his desk, going through some paperwork, a distinct frown on his face.

´Is something the matter?´ she asked worriedly. These days frowns and papers usually meant more trouble than ever.

Robert looked up and smiled vaguely at her. To her relief Cora noticed that upon closer inspection, his expression was more irritated then worried. ´Not really, my dear,´ he replied. ´But last month the Village Hall was inspected by a constructor and I received a report of his findings this morning.´

´And he thinks the Village Hall is near collapsing?´ Cora asked half-jokingly.

To her surprise her husband nodded gravely. ´Indeed he seems to think so. Apparently the structure beams have weakened considerably.´ Robert signed heavily. ´So now the ungrateful job of informing the village council that they´ll have to spend a lot of money in a time of war in order to fix this befalls on me. You know how troublesome those board members can get´

Cora smiled sympathetically and bend down to kiss his cheek. ´You poor man. How about a cup of tea to steady you before you´ll be send into the lion´s den?´

* * *

><p><em>Another day, another match of wills between Dr Wellington and Isobel Crawley<em>, Elsie Hughes thought wearily. Their voices, coming from the ward could be heard all through the corridor. Isobel´s voice was passionate, laced with heartfelt emotion, and could not have been more in contrast with Dr Wellington´s icy rebukes.

´The man is in so much pain, he needs, he deserves some relief from it,´ Elsie heard Isobel argue furiously.

´I refuse to prescribe more morphine to Lieutenant Foyle,´ Wellington replied crisply. ´His current doses must be sufficient.´

´You only have to take one look at the man to know it is not!´ Isobel shot back. `He is writhing in pain!´

´Perhaps you have not had the misfortune to see the effects of severe morphine addiction, nurse Crawley,´ Wellington´s sarcastic voice emphasized her rank frostily. ´No more morphine for Lieutenant Foyle.´

´There must be something that can be done to relieve his suffering,´ Isobel´s voice had become considerably softer now. ´And if morphine can give him that relief…´

Wellington cut her off harshly. ´You seem to forget yourself, nurse Crawley. My decision is final.´

Elsie watched him stride away, leaving Isobel shaking with anger. After a slight pause to make sure Wellington had truly left, Elsie pushed open the door and stepped inside. Isobel was standing at a table, her hands on the top, clenched in fists and her head bowed down. Elsie stepped beside her and placed a comforting hand on her lower arm.

´Insufferable man,´ Isobel grunted between her teeth.

´Is it really so very dangerous to increase his morphine doses?´ Elsie asked softly.

Isobel nodded and seemed to relax somewhat. ´It is,´ she confirmed. Dr Wellington actually has a good point. I just… I just can´t stand to see a man suffer like that. And Dr Wellington acts as if his pain is of no significance. I cannot understand how he can remain so indifferent!´

´I don´t think Dr Wellington can be accused of indifference,´ Elsie felt compelled to point out. ´I know him to be a very dedicated physician.´

´Well,´ Isobel´s voice had a acquired bitter tone in it. ´It seems that Dr Wellington is determined to be cross with _me_ then.´

Elsie could not make a satisfying reply to that. Wellington´s dislike for Isobel Crawley was now evident to everyone, but at the same time as bewildering as well. Instead she let her eyes wander through the ward and they came to rest upon the sight of Lieutenant Foyle who was moving around restlessly on his bed, moaning quietly, his face wet with perspiration.

Isobel followed her gaze and when Elsie looked at her she could see her own worry and pity reflected in the other woman´s eyes.

´What´s the matter with him?´ Elsie asked softly.

´We amputated his leg two days ago,´ Isobel explained. But now he feels the pain of his missing limb, as if it´s there. It´s a condition called phantom pain.´

´How is that even possible?´ Elsie asked horrified. `How can you feel pain from a limb that isn´t even there?´

´It´s the trauma of it all,´ Isobel answered sadly. ´Imagine how terrified he must be, feeling his leg hurting while he know it´s gone, burning up with fever. I wish I could sit with him for a while, try to comfort him somewhat. But I can´t spare the time, there´s so much to be done, so many others who need care as well.´

´If you wish I could ask Anna to sit with him for a bit´ Elsie suggested. ´Perhaps some company will ease him somewhat.´

´Would you?´ Isobel asked gratefully.

´Of course,´ Elsie assured her. ´I´ll go and find her this instant.´

Isobel watched her walk away briskly and forced herself to brighten up. She would not, could not allow Dr Wellington´s aversion to her get the better of her.

* * *

><p>Later that same day all person feelings of like or dislike had to be firmly put aside when the critical situation of one of the patients reached its crisis.<p>

´Cousin Isobel!´ Sybil exclaimed late afternoon, leaning over the bed of a deathly pale man. ´Mr Bell is failing! I can barely feel his pulse.´

Between Sybil, Isobel and Wellington, Mr Bell, one of Lord Grantham´s tenants who had returned

from Belgium with a severe shot wound in his stomach only six days ago was lifted on a stretcher and hurried into the servants room behind the drawing room that now served as treatment chamber.

While he was being placed on a bed again, Isobel turned to Sybil.

´You´ve got to run down to Mrs Hughes. Somebody needs to warn his wife!´

With only a nod Sybil dashed away and Isobel turned back to bed. Wellington had already exposed the man´s abdomen and he quickly examined the swollen stomach. He gave a frustrated shake of his head. ´I feel fluid…I´m afraid there ´s internal bleeding. We need to cut him open.´ He looked at Isobel. ´Chloroform!´

Isobel quickly administered the anaesthetic and then dug her fingernails in the jar of hard soap. Before Wellington could say anything she handed him the scalpel. He took it without saying a word and in one, fluent motion he slid its sharp razor across the man´s skin. Immediately a sea of blood seemed to emerge from within.

´Bloody hell,´ Wellington cursed. ´Clamps, quickly!´

Isobel used two sleek, metal clamps to open the wound further, while Wellington probed through the man´s indigestions, trying to find the source of the bleeding. Isobel followed his movements closely, allowing him as much space to examine as possible. A rush of adrenaline shot through her.

In moments like this she didn´t think of the body lying on the bed of that of a person. Here in this moment there was only the thrill of the operation.

´I need to stop the bleeding,´ Wellington´s voice was fast, to the point. ´I´ll try to tie the blood vessels. You squeeze them shut, use a…´

She already replaced one of the clamps she was holding with one that was meant to close down the veins.

´Right…´ there was a notable sound of admiration head in the physicians voice. ´Let´s hope we´ll have enough time.´

They worked in silence for twenty minutes in perfect synchrony. Nevertheless the bleeding didn´t seem to stop one bit. ´There must be something else that´s causing the bleeding,´ Isobel said frustrated as another rush of blood gushed over her hands.

Wellington nodded his agreement. ´And we need to find it soon before this man bleeds to death. Open the wound again, give me as much space as you can.´

After another minute of searching he cursed again loudly. ´His spleen is torn… and badly so… what on earth…!´ He grabbed one of the clamps from Isobel´s hands, poked around for a second and pulled chunk of metal out of the wound. His face consorted in anger. ´Those idiots left half a bullet inside him!´ He threw it on the floor and barked: ´Check his heart rate and blood pressure… for what it´s still worth!´

Isobel had to strap the meter tight to get any results at all and when she placed her hand in the man´s neck she could feel hardly any pulse. ´It´s no good,´ she told Wellington gently.

But he pursed his lips in determination. ´No surrender as long there´s life left.´

Isobel allowed herself a small smile and grabbed the clamps once again. Wellington worked furiously to close the ripped spleen, while Isobel kept an anxious look at the patient's face.

She watched and hoped and prayed until she saw it. Carefully she placed her hand flat on the man´s chest and felt nothing. At the same moment Wellington stilled his hands and he looked at her. His face a picture of defeat and anger.

´There was nothing you could do,´ she offered him. ´Too much damage was done already.´

´It´s such a waste**…**´ he whispered hoarsely. ´Such a stupid waste. This man didn´t have to die. ´

´I know…´ she answered. ´I know… Let´s close the wound.´ He let her do the stitching while he picked the bullet from the floor. ´I´ll write a letter tonight,´ he announced. ´Whoever butchered this man up, mustn´t get away with it…´ He shook his head.

´His family has been notified?´ he asked then, returning to his briskly self again.

´They were,´ Isobel answered. ´I think his wife is waiting for news.´

´I´ll go and tell her then,´

Moments after he had left the door opened again to reveal Anna on the doorstep. ´Mrs Crawley, do you need any help with… oh my…´

Isobel saw the girl growing pale and she couldn´t blame her. The sheets and her apron where covered in blood and she realized she yet had to close Mr Bell´s eyes. ´Anna,´ she said kindly. ´Could you send Sybil to me to help? And perhaps you could go to Mrs Bell… I´m sure she could use the comfort.´

´Yes… yes of course,´ Anna seemed to pull herself together rather quickly. ´I will Mrs Crawley… at once,´ she answered and hurried away.

Once alone again Isobel gently closed the eyes of the young Philip Bell and desperately fought back the tears as she wondered about her son.

* * *

><p>Anna was at loss. There was no other way to put it. After Dr Wellington had told Eliza Bell about the death of her husband, his face filled with regret and had offered her his hand and condolences, Anna had watched her reaction closely. Upon hearing the news Mrs Bell´s had become deathly pale and her body had become rigid. Her large eyes seemed fixed and almost glazed over. Anna had put her arm around her shoulders an led the young widow to the privacy of the music room. <em>A widow…<em>Anna could feel a chill running down her spine. This woman, who was of the same age as herself, was now a widow.

When Mrs Crawley had asked her to look after Mrs BellAnna had been ready for anything. For tears, for crying, for screaming even. But after she had gently pushed the woman down in one of the armchairs, Mrs Bell had remained motionless. Anna kneeled down in front of her and tried to hold her gaze. ´Is there anything I can do for you?´ she asked softly.

But Eliza Bell´s seemed to gaze right through her and didn´t show any signs of even having heard her question. Next Anna tried to get her something to drink and although she obediently held the glass in her hand and sipped, she remained in her almost catatonic state. In the end Anna just with her, waiting until she was ready to deal with the loss of her husband.

They´d been sitting quietly together when Sybil came in. ´Mrs Bell…´ her voice sounded full of concern and sympathy. ´We have gathered some things that belonged to your husband, would you like to see them? Also, your sister is on her way to collect you.´

Eliza Bell´s gaze seemed to linger on Sybil for a second and then she gave the slightest nod. Anna helped her get up and guided her back to the ward. A screen had been placed around Philip´s bed and on it lay several items that had belonged to him. A small leather-bound bible, a battered wedding picture and small stack of letters, held together by some string. As if in a daze, Eliza Bell walked over to the bed and slowly ran her fingers over the items. She brought the bible to her face and inhaled the smell of its leather, she fingered the letters and eventually picked up the wedding picture.

´I…´ her voice sounded hoarse and distant. ´I told him to go…´ Anna only vaguely noticed Sybil had llly coand she was left alone with the struggling woman in front of her.

´He didn´t want to… was reluctant… but I told him to be brave and fight for his… for his country. I didn´t know… didn´t know he would get hurt.´

´Of course you didn´t,´ Anna answered softly. ´How were you to know?´

´But I told him…´ Eliza Bell´s voice became more strained. ´I made him go and he came back so injured… he was in so much pain…´ a single tear rolled down over her cheek.

´And I just… I just… ´ a sob broke from her throat. ´I just need to tell him one more time that I love him…´ her legs seemed to give way beneath her and Anna was just in time to catch the woman and help her sit down on the bed. Eliza Bell dissolved in racking sobs, burying her head in Anna´s shoulder.

´He´s gone… he´s gone…´ she panted, her voice becoming almost hysterical. ´He´s gone and I can´t go on without him.´ Anna held the woman tightly and rocked her back and forth, all the while making soothing noises.

After a bit Eliza Bell pulled back a little to look at her and Anna was struck by the look of total desperation on her eyes. There was such an ugly fierceness in the inconsolable look of grief in her face that for a second Anna forgot how to breathe. ´Tell me it´s not true… tell me he´ll come back…,´ Eliza begged.

´I´m so sorry Eliza,´ Anna could hear her own voice crack, but fought to remain strong. ´He´s gone… he really is.´

`There must have been some mistake,´ Eliza Bell persisted. ´It must have been somebody else!´

For a second Anna visualized the dead, blood-covered body of Philip Bell in her mind and then she swallowed with difficulty. It was heart-breaking, but she had to be honest with this woman.

´Eliza**…** I`ve seen him after the surgery. It really was Philip and he was really dead.´

At last Anna could see the realisation dawning in the other woman´s eyes, before a fresh wave of tears overtook her. Very soon after that Sybil let her sister in the room and Anna carefully heaved over the still crying form of Eliza into the waiting arms of her family.

´I´ve asked one of the lorry-drivers to take her home, ´ Sybil whispered. ´I´ll be back soon.´

Quickly wrapping the few items Philip Bell had left in a nearby cloth, Anna nodded while handing Sybil the package. Soon after that she found herself standing alone.

* * *

><p>Once Sybil had helped Eliza Bell and her sister in the car, she returned to the ward. She stopped at the doorstep and watched how Anna stripped Phillips Bell´s bed with furious movements as if she was trying to erase what had happened this evening. Sybil could tell from her flushed cheeks and erratic gestures that she was deeply unsettled by what had happened. All of a sudden Anna dropped the armful of linen she was holding back on the bed and buried her face in her hands. From the shaking of her shoulders, Sybil knew she was crying.<p>

She took a few steps forward, wanting to console her, when all of a sudden, Bates stepped from behind the screen. He never noticed Sybil, all of his attention was entirely focused on Anna. As Sybil drew back behind the screen, he placed his cane on the bed and enfolded Anna in his arms.

There was just no other word for it, Sybil thought as she watched the scene mesmerised. Anna seemed to disappear into him as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close, her arms coming up around his shoulders to hold on.

Although she would never flat out admit it, Sybil had always pitied Bates somewhat. When he had first came to Downton, she had felt sorry for his pain and crippled leg and had felt proud at her father for employing such a man were others wouldn´t have. She herself had always behaved kindly and friendly towards him, but her actions had been mostly fuelled by pity.

Watching them now he seemed to her a rock of strength to drew comfort from. Feeling guilty on intruding on what felt to be such an intimate moment between the two of them, Sybil drew back further and left the ward, a pensive look on her face.

Just to be in his arms was enough for her at that moment. Just to be held and comforted after the grief she had witnessed that day. After a while her crying subsided and she pulled back a little to look in his face. It had been almost a year since they had declared their love for another in the garden. They had confined themselves to being friends only, patiently waiting until the time was right for them to become more. They both felt the depth of their love for each other, but managed to communicate it only by an occasional look or smile.

Now she could see his love for her shining openly from his eyes and she knew hers was evident in her own eyes. In this moment she bathed in it, needing it to find hope again. She felt his fingers brush away her tears and slowly her face broke in a smile which was instantly greeted by his.

´Better now?´ he asked quietly, still stroking her cheek.

´Yes… yes I am,´ she nodded, resting her forehead against his chin.

´You´re exhausted,´ he stated it as the fact it was. ´You should get some rest. ´

She shook her head, regretfully stepping out of his arms. ´I can´t… I need to take this laundry to the scullery and make the bed up again…´ She was about to pick up the sheets, but he beat her to it.

´I´ll take care of that, you go to bed now and sleep. You need it.´

She looked like she was about to argue, but then gave in, feeling acutely how bone-tired she was.

Instead she gave a loving smile. ´You take good care of me.´

´Well, it´s something I picked up from a girl a know,´ he replied, his lips twitching. ´Maybe you know her… blonde hair… beautiful eyes…´ He placed his hand on her lower back and gently pushed her out of the ward. ´Now go.´

And despite the emotional turmoil she had been through that day she walked up the stairs with the ghost of a smile around her lips.

* * *

><p><strong>If you´ve got the time, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: the good news is that the Carson/Hughes sub-plot starts rolling in this chapter. The bad news is that this chapters deals with some character death. I´m very sorry. _

**Chapter 4  
><strong>_April 1916_

He sat motionlessly at his desk, the letter between his hands. Warm sunshine bathed the library in light, but he could feel the darkness descending on him, once again reading the lines. He should be prepared for this, should have expected it, but upon reading the words he realised he was not. And could never be prepared for the heartache this message brought on. A discreet cough announced the arrival of Carson and he turned around slowly, almost painfully.

´Milord, is something the matter?´

Carson. Always perceptive**,** and so dedicated to Downton and all its inhabitants. How was he to be told? He lifted his gaze to meet his, unconsciously crumpling the letter in his hand. He noticed Carson´s eyes widening ever so slightly. He must know now… must guess its contents. This gave him the courage to find his voice.

`Carson, could you fetch Mrs Hughes please? I have something to tell you both.´

´Certainly, milord.´

She called out for him to enter when he knocked on the door of her parlour. He opened the door to find her sitting at her desk, going over some accounts. Her eyes lit up when she saw him.

`Mr Carson, what can I do for you?´

Her smile, her Scottish accent, the sense of calmness that went out from her. She was his closest friend, his confidante and the one he turned to instantly when he wanted to share something that bothered or pleased him.

´His Lordship asked to see us both in the library,´ he told her. Upon seeing her surprised face he added quietly: ´A letter has arrived.´

The colour drained from her face at that. ´Oh Lord…´ she whispered. Somewhat shakily she rose to her feet, trying to fight down the panic she felt rising up inside her.

´Do not assume the worst yet,´ he tried to comfort her. But as he spoke the words he knew how shallow they were. The look on Lord Grantham´s face had left him in no doubt of the seriousness of the letter´s content.

Silently they made their way to the library and Elsie could feel the knots forming in her stomach. A feeling of dread took possession of her, and no matter how hard she tried to rationalise it, she couldn´t ignore the sense of foreboding inside her.

When the entered the library together she only had to take one look at Lord Grantham´s face to know that every feeling of dread she´d experienced in the last minutes had been completely justified. She resisted the sudden urge to grab the hand of the man standing next to her, desperately needing something to hold on to, someone to draw strength from.

Lord Grantham took a few step towards them and then placed his hand heavily on the back of the settee. Mr Carson… Mrs Hughes…´ he began with difficulty. ´I received a letter from the war office this morning. I regret to inform you that Downton has lost two valuable members of staff…´ He took a deep breath and Elsie could feel a fist of ice closing around her heart.

´Mr Tom Branson and William Mason have fallen during the battle of Verdun.´

A devastated silence filled the room after the announcement, while each of them tried to come to terms with the news. ´They were fine men**…**´ Lord Grantham spoke finally.

´Indeed they were, ´ Carson agreed. ´And they will be sorely missed.´ Elsie could hear the quiver in his heavy voice.

She tried to battle the emotions welling up in her, determined not to break down in front of these two men who to her had always seemed the epitome of dignity. Eventually she felt her voice was strong enough to utter: ´Has their family been notified?´

´Yes, they have,´ Lord Grantham replied. ´Their bodies will be returned to England as quickly as possible. I would like to ask the both of you to inform the staff. I will tell the family…´ his voice wavered and Elsie wondered with a jolt if he knew anything of the attachment his youngest daughter had formed to the chauffeur. Lady Sybil would be heartbroken… and Daisy… Apart from her own grief of the death of the two young men she cared for deeply, she realised now she also had to face the grief of the women to whom they had meant so much more.

* * *

><p>He was gone. She would never hear his voice again. They would never talk again. She would never see him again. Never again he would look at her with his blue eyes shining with passion and conviction.<p>

_´I won´t always be a chauffeur…´_ His words, spoken so long ago had haunted her all day. He´d had such big dreams, so much potential. He´d wanted to reach for the stars. And instead he´d become a soldier and was shot down as one of thousands of others in a gruesome war that seemed to have captured the entire world.

They had been so alike. She cringed at how melodramatic it sounded, but while talking to him she felt as if she had found a part of her soul. She was loved by many and she knew it, but he was the one who´d understood her and who had shared her hopes and dreams for the future, her believe in necessity of change.

She had never been in love before, but she had fallen for him so quickly it had surprised her. And she had loved every moment of it. The fact that he was a chauffeur and she was an Earl´s daughter had never bothered her. It simply wasn´t a problem in her head and she had known for sure, had almost assumed it would work out somehow. Until the war had come…

And at first she hadn´t even believed the war could change what was between them. He was going away to fight, she would become a nurse. And after everything was over they would continue where

they left off. In the early days of the war she had even entertained the small hope that the war would bring some positive changes, would give them the freedom they wanted to be together.

Alongside with him it seemed her dreams had gone as well. Together they had believed the world could be a better place. Instead the world had shown itself to be more dark, more horrible then she could have ever feared. And he wasn´t in it anymore.

She´d been crying for hours, in the depths of her pain and sadness vaguely surprised that everyone around her seemed to accept her grief so easily. She wondered how much they know, how much they had guessed of what had been between them.

Now that the evening had fallen, she felt she had no more tears left. She´d changed in her nightgown, finding her clothes to confiding and sat down at her dressing table, staring motionless at her hands. A knock on the door roused her and she called out.

What with her being the only Crawley girl left, Anna still helped her get dressed every day. Although after her training in London were she´d grown used to dressing herself, Sybil could well do without her services. But her mother had insisted they continued, in a half-hearted attempt to hold on to some of life as they knew it. Upon seeing Anna´s surprised face she felt the ridiculous need to apologise, as much for her red face and swollen eyes as for the fact she was in her nightdress already.

´I´m sorry I didn´t wait for you… I just… I couldn't bear to be in my corset a minute longer…´

´That´s quite alright, milady,´ Anna reassured her quickly. After a slight pause she asked: ´How are you feeling?´

Sybil shrugged helplessly, no words coming forward. Anna seemed to understand nevertheless and taking the hairbrush from the dressing table she started to brush out the long, brown curls. Oddly lulled by this familiar ritual, Sybil closed her eyes for a few seconds, allowing her thoughts to roam.

After a few minutes, her eyes still closed, she asked, her voice barely above a whisper: ´Anna… what was he like? Tom, I mean. What was he like to work with?´

Opening her eyes, she could see Anna smiling softly in the mirror. ´He certainly brightened the place up,´ she said after some thought. ´He was always so full of opinions, of ideas… he really believed there could be a better world. And yet…´ Anna smiled fondly losing herself now in the memories. ´He never sought to pick up a fight. He was never bitter or self-righteous. We all liked him. Apart from Thomas… but that dislike went mutual.´ A memory came to mind and she laughed softly. ´He once pulled a prank on Thomas…´

´Really?´ Sybil had turned around by now, almost willing to pull the words from her. ´What did he do? Please, tell me…´

It occurred to her now that Tom must have had a whole life at Downton she knew nothing about. Who were his friends? What had he been like among those he worked with?

´Well…´ Anna grinned despite of everything. ´Tom couldn´t stand Thomas, but he and William fast became good friends. It was a good thing for William too, Tom helped him to stand up to Thomas´ bullying. One day after Thomas had crossed the line… again, Tom and William plotted their revenge. Although I don´t doubt Tom was the mastermind behind it all.´

Encouraged by the smile she saw on Lady Sybil´s face, Anna continued, happy to divert her if only a little.

´Another thing you must know about Thomas is that he was extremely vain. I think he rinsed his mouth with mouth wash at least eight times a day…´ Anna shuddered at the memory of the acid smell. `One morning, William and Tom poured something in his flask of mouth wash and to this day I don´t know what it was, but it caused Thomas´ tongue to go completely blue.´

´Blue?´ Lady Sybil asked, her eyes wide.

´Ink blue,´ Anna confirmed, her eyes twinkling. ´So Thomas was sitting there, at the table in the servants hall, wondering why everyone was gaping at him. Then Tom quietly creeps up behind him, without Thomas noticing and starts sticking his own tongue out. And we all were sitting there, barely keeping it together.

´And then?´ Sybil asked anxiously, a giggle escaping her.

´Well, it ended when Mr Carson came in,´ Anna answered, ducking her head slightly as she remembered. ´He was so angry… he ranted for a full eight minutes. Thomas of course tried to blame everyone in sight, but Mr Carson was having none of it. In the end I almost felt sorry for Thomas.´

Sybil started to laugh, but it soon gave way to tears and she rubbed her face furiously and tried to swallow the sobs. Anna gently held her shoulder and said softly. ´He was a good man, milady. One of the best in fact. I know… you... you cared deeply for him. If there was anyone who deserved your regard, it was him.´

Lady Sybil sighed deeply and squared her shoulders. ´There**…** I`ve done enough crying for today.´

´You need to get some rest now,´ Anna agreed with her. ´Would you like some tea or anything else before you go to sleep?´

Sybil shook her head. ´No, thank you Anna. I think I want to be alone now… I´ll try and get some sleep.´ But as she crawled beneath the sheets, she knew sleep would stay far away from her.

* * *

><p>The soft, whimpering sobs coming from the back of the garden gave Elsie a wan feeling in her stomach. Walking through the pitch-black of the night, her eyes only slowly adjusting to the darkness, she made her way to its source.<p>

`Daisy? Are you there? – Oh Daisy!´

She found the young maid sitting on the stone bench, almost doubled up, crying in her apron.

´Oh my lass…´ She sat down and pulled the girl in a hug. ´What are you doing all alone in the dark then?´ she chided gently. Daisy rested her head on her shoulder, her sobs gradually sustaining somewhat. Her next words however startled Elsie greatly.

´It´s all my fault, you know…´

´Your fault? How can this whole mess of a war possibly be your fault?´ Elsie exclaimed before she could check herself. In a much gentler tone she asked: ´What sort of ideas are you getting?´

´If I… if I hadn´t been so taken with Thomas… then maybe he wouldn´t have gone… he would have stayed and he wouldn´t have been dead now!´ Breaking down once again, Elsie rocked her as if she were a child. Which, in a way, Daisy still was, Elsie realised sadly. Just a child that would have to grow up so fast now.

´Daisy, William went to war because he felt he needed to do his duty,´ Elsie explained softly. ´He wouldn´t have stayed either way. He didn´t leave because he wanted to be away from you, he went to fight for what he loved, including you.´

´But I´ve been so horrible to him,´ Daisy wailed. ´I really hurt him.´

´Well…´ Elsie answered slowly, ´I should think I am to blame for that as well. I knew Thomas was stringing you along and I should have done something about it. I should have taken better care of you.´

´It´s not your fault, Mrs Hughes!´ Daisy´s tone was almost indignant. ´If only I hadn´t been so stupid! I just wish I could do it all over again.´

´I know, dear´, Elsie said quietly. ´I know.´

They were silent for a while, until Daisy asked in a small voice: ´Do you think it was very terrible? The trenches, I mean? I´ve heard the stories from the soldiers and then I imagine William there… Do you think he suffered very much?´

The whirl of horrifying images Daisy´s words stirred inside her caused her throat to clench and her breath to catch. She couldn´t stomach the idea of William in that hell, what was wrong with the world that a good man like William would have to suffer through that?

´I hope he didn´t suffer, Daisy,´ she answered the girl. ´I pray that he didn´t… but try… for yourself and for him, to remember him as he was. Remember him in his footman´s outfit and how smart he looked in it, remember how he was always kind to everyone, remember how he played the piano and how he smiled at you. You meant the world to him, you know that?´

She felt certain that if she were to say one more word she would break down and start crying herself. And housekeepers don´t cry, she told herself sternly. They remain composed in all circumstances. She couldn´t give in, she simply couldn´t. Briskly getting to her feet she pulled Daisy with her.

´Come on, in you go. Let´s see if Mrs Patmore has some warm chocolate for you.´

* * *

><p>Once she had left Daisy with Mrs Patmore, Elsie tried to occupy herself with as many chores as she could possibly think of, anything to keep her hands busy and her thoughts and emotions at bay. She checked the supplies in the storage cabinet, she went over some accounts, she inspected the silverware, she checked the spare uniforms and eventually eleven thirty at night found her furiously brushing the sink in the deserted kitchen.<p>

´Mrs Hughes…?´ his voice startled her and she clutched her chest, feeling suddenly yanked away from the contemplativeness of her feverish denial.

´What are you doing?´ he asked, bewilderment clearly written on his features.

´It looked a bit greasy to me,´ she answered him in what she hoped could pass as a business-like voice. ´I thought I´d give it a good going over.´

´At midnight?` he asked incredulously, carefully taking the cloth from her hands. In doing so his fingers brushed hers and she pulled away as if she had burnt herself. This small touch only made her more aware of the fact he was so close, making it all the more difficult to maintain her composure.

´Well… we can´t have the house failing apart now can we?´ she asked. ´Certainly not at a time like this.´

´Are you alright?´ the softness of his tone only brought out the tremor of his voice more, affecting her more than ever.

´I´m fine, Mr Carson,´ she replied. ´Why ever should I not be?´ She couldn´t meet his eyes though, and kept her gaze steady on her shoulder. ´I will be going to my parlour now.´

´Mrs Hughes…´ he had stepped closer, clearly invading her personal space now. Getting away from him as soon as she could had become rather urgent now. She could feel her eyes starting to burn and a big lump forming in her throat.

´I still have some correspondence to finish,´ her voice sounded hoarse, even to her own ears. ´I haven´t gotten around to do…´

´Elsie!´

He´d hadn´t used her Christian name for a very long time. Not after what she referred to in her mind as the ´Regretful day´. They had always been strictly formal to one another since that time. Now the use of her name proved to be her undoing. A big tear fell from her cheek and splashed on her tightly clenched fists. She shut her eyes but it was to no avail. They poured from beneath her eyelids and spilled over her cheeks.

´Oh, Elsie…´ his voice was barely more than a murmur and through her closed eyes she felt, rather than saw him grasp her elbows gently, pulling her towards him.

´Don´t…´ she pleaded, barely audible now. ´Please don´t… I can´t…´

´You don´t have to be strong all the time.´ His tone was so warm it made her melt, causing even more tears to flow.

´But I have to.´ she hiccupped. It didn´t matter anymore though. She felt the walls around her crumpling, her body almost sagging as the grief and sadness of the day finally began to ask its toll.

´Not with me.´ he reassured her, drawing her close. She cried on his shoulder as he rocked her, much as she had comforted Daisy earlier that evening. Eventually there were no more tears left, but she stayed in his arms, enjoying for a moment the luxury of being held by him and being comforted.

He whispered soft, soothing words in her hair, most of them not even coherent. It didn´t matter. In the end it was his warm, dark voice that lulled her back to calmness.

* * *

><p><strong>If you want to, please let me know what you think!<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Enid Gibson – Kirby and her husband Henry are my own characters. I invented them for ´A token of honour.´ I can´t explain it, but I really liked writing this chapter. _

**Chapter 5  
><strong>_July 1916_

The comfort of being married for more than twenty-eight years lay in the routines they had, Cora mussed as she watched her husband enter their bedroom. Without fail he would come in after breakfast. They both enjoyed this brief moment of privacy in which they could share their plans for the day. Although this morning he looked particularly remorseful she noticed.

´Darling, I´m sorry, but you and Sybil will have to entertain my mother alone tonight,´ he told her.

´Why… where will you be?´ she asked, her eyebrows rising.

´Another dinner meeting with the village council,´ the grumbled. ´It´s been four months and they still won´t admit the village hall needs to be renovated. In the meantime the place is becoming a total hazard!´

It was one of the many things she adored about him. His involvement and dedication to the community of Downton. Some said the world of aristocracy was a fading one and she didn´t know about that. But she knew Robert Crawley was born to be an aristocrat, made to be the head of Downton and oversee all its trials and tribulations.

´Well, I´m sure you will be very persuasive tonight, dear,´ she said to him in a light, teasing voice.

He caught her eyes and smirked back and a private look passed between them. ´I do try.´

* * *

><p>They were so young, Charles Carson realized as he watched Elsie – in his mind she was always Elsie – instruct the two boys that had been added to the household staff. After two years of war there were hardly any men left in service. A lot of the work was now done by women and he himself often found himself carrying out duties that would be deemed undignified for a butler to do two years earlier.<p>

Now two boys of barely twelve years old had come to Downton to work. He had resisted it as long as he could. It had been his adamant belief that children simply didn´t belong in service. But eventually he was forced to give in. They were understaffed, it was as simple as that. And the families of these two boys desperately needed the income, both their fathers had died in the war, leaving the family with no breadwinner. Still, he couldn´t help but loathe the situation and resolve to make sure these young boys would benefit from this situation as much as possible. Perhaps he could teach them something valuable, something of consequence that would help them in the rest of their life. In the very least he could be kind to them. Watching Elsie he realised he probably wasn´t alone in this resolution. Her tone of voice was noticeably softer than usual when she dealt with a member of staff.

Elsie… he still marvelled at the closeness that had developed between them since that terrible day they learned that Tom and William had died. Of course they weren´t as close as he wanted them to be. Not by far… Inwardly chiding himself for the path he allowed his thoughts to travel, he focussed them back on the present situation. _Really man, it´s been fifteen years. Give up that foolish fantasy!_

The morning after she had allowed him to hold and comfort her she had come to his pantry, her eyes downcast, her hands fiddling nervously. He´d felt his heart sank as he took in her demeanour and he awaited her words with a feeling of dread. However, what she said surprised him somewhat.

´Mr Carson… I would like to thank you for what you did the other night. You were a great comfort to me.´

´I assure you no thanks are necessary, Mrs Hughes,´ he replied, somewhat touched by her words. ´I am merely glad I could ease your distress somewhat.´

´Well, you certainly managed to do that…´ she answered. To his bewilderment, the fidgeting continued and she still seemed unable to quite meet his eye. If she wasn´t embarrassed, then what was causing her nervousness?

´Mr Carson, may I be so bold as to ask another… favour of you?´

Now he was definitely intrigued. ´Of course you may,´ he answered trying very hard not to appear too eager.

´The events of yesterday made me realize something…´ the fidgeting continued fervently. ´Being allowed to live your life is a precious gift and lately I feel that I´m only living a very small part of it.´

He frowned, trying to make out her cryptic words, feeling that understanding them rightly was of utmost importance. ´What do you mean by that?´

´I want to be Elsie again!´ she blurted out, blushing furiously, but kept on talking. ´Nobody calls me Elsie anymore. ´Mrs Hughes´ seems to be all that there is left of me. And it´s not who I am, it´s only what I do.´ She was on a roll now, and the words came faster and more passionate. ´I need at least someone who knows there´s more than just the housekeeper. I need to hear my own name every once in a while.´

Then she paused and calmed somewhat, in an embarrassed voice she continued. ´I know this may sound very silly to you…´

´Not at all,´ he hastily assured her, glad to be able to say something. ´In fact I fear I am in the same boat as you are… sometimes I wonder if people think my mother called me ´Mr Carson´ as well.´

She laughed a little at that and finally looked him in the eye. ´Charles… ´ she said softly and slowly, drawing out every syllable. Hearing his name spoken like that – and how long had it been? - felt like a caress to him.

´Elsie…´ he answered, feeling his heartbeat quicken. ´I think I would like to hear my name every once in a while too.´

And so it had started. Whenever they were alone together and be certain they weren´t overheard they became Elsie and Charles to each other. There was something decidedly intimate in it and although his foolish heart would always long for more, this was in fact more than he had ever held possible. He knew how independent she was and how much it must have cost her to come to him and ask him. And he was honoured that she had chosen him.

* * *

><p>Mrs Hughes had allowed Anna to go out for the evening to visit Enid Gibson, née Kirby, who had been a housemaid at Downton a year ago. After her fiancé had left to fight, Enid had taken up his place at the bakery. The bakery they hoped to call their own one day. Last Christmas Henry had come home on leave and they had married. She and John had both attended the wedding, rejoicing in the happiness of the couple and their own memories. Walking through Downton village on a warm summer evening, Anna found herself reminiscing a little. Three months had passed since they had lost Tom and William, and Downton was slowly recovering. Lady Sybil had thrown herself in her work as a nurse. There was a new depth to the way she handled the grieving soldiers and heartbroken family members of the men who hadn´t survived. She could relate to them in a way that was only possible if one had experienced those feelings themselves. Lady Sybil had matured in those short months and Anna knew that the girl she had looked after for all these years was truly gone now.<p>

And then Daisy… Anna sighed softly to herself. She was beginning to think the young scullery maid would never get past her heartbreak. All happiness seemed to have drained out of her. She had lost quite a lot of weight in the past month and now this shadow of a girl slid through the kitchen, quietly and withdrawn, doing her work mechanically.

She worried deeply about Daisy. She worried about Lady Sybil as well, although she had to admit she seemed to be bearing the loss of Tom remarkably well. And yet, despite it all there also was a feeling of deep happiness inside her, which could all be attributed to one factor: John Bates. He made her happy, it was as simple as that. Just knowing that he loved her and that he accepted her love, so that she was free to love him as much as she wanted gave her the courage to get out of bed in the morning and face whatever the day brought her.

He´d stuck to his word and never tried to move their relationship to anything physical. The enormous self-restraint he had previously used to keep his feelings for her at bay he now used to control his actions. She wasn´t so naïve she didn´t know how much control it cost him. Especially in the first weeks after they had admitted their feelings for each other. She could see his eyes darken or hear his breath quicken when they stood close together, or when she met him somewhere in the house, especially when he wasn´t expecting it. It thrilled her and sometimes she wished he would just send his self-control packing. But as time had passed it had become easier for them to move around within the boundaries they had set for themselves. And what they lacked in physical closeness they made up in the intimacy of their friendship. They became almost inseparable. She knew the rest of the staff gossiped like mad about them, wondering what exactly was going on between them, but she couldn´t care less about it. There was a certain comfort in knowing that nobody could disapprove of their conduct.

He had changed a lot in the past year and she marvelled at it He´d let go of the guilt and self- accusation that had tormented him for so long and now he was finally at peace. It happened gradually but it changed his entire countenance. He was more relaxed and easier upon himself and those around him. It rubbed off on her as well. When she was near him she felt just as at peace. And very, very happy.

Of course she wanted more than the platonic relationship they had now. She wanted to be his wife. She wanted his children. Lying in bed at night she could imagine them, boys with unruly hair and brown, mischievous eyes and girls with blonde plaits. Sometimes her impatience got the better of her, making her wonder if it would ever happen. If he would ever be free from Vera.

And yet, that confidence she had felt from almost the moment she met him that somehow everything would be alright was still as strong as ever. One day… One day they would have the life she was now happily dreaming off.

Her train of thoughts was interrupted when she heard her name. Looking up she was somewhat surprised to find Lord Grantham stepping beside her. ´Good evening, your Lordship,´ she greeted him, making a small curtsy.

´Good evening, Anna,´ he answered pleasantly. ´Still up and about in the village?´

´I´ve been visiting Enid Gibson, your Lordship,´ she told him. ´You may remember her, she was a housemaid at Downton a year ago.´

´Yes I remember,´ Robert replied after some thought. ´Doesn´t she have a husband who´s fighting in France?´

´Yes, Henry is still away,´ Anna answered, her face sobering a little. ´But he writes her often. The war is hard on him, but he is alive and he is healthy.´

´Well, that´s more than some can say it seems,´ Robert remarked gravely. They came to stop at the village hall and he looked at the old worn-out building. Really, how the other members of the village council could not see this building needed renovation was beyond him.

´I need to step into the village hall for a moment,´ he told Anna.

´Well, I wanted to stop by at the church before I returned,´ Anna answered, indicating the small parish across the street. ´Good day, your Lordship.´

She watched him walk into the village hall, briefly wondering what he could want in that deserted place and then crossed the street. Ever since the war had started she had formed the habit of stop by at the church whenever she could to light a candle for the men who were fighting and for those who had fallen. It was a small, somewhat sentimental habit. But she found it comforting. Lighting a candle, she thought of William and Tom and prayed they were happy now. Then she thought of Henry, and prayed for him as well.

Just when she was about to leave she heard the most earth shattering rumble she had ever heard in her life. For a second she stood completely motionless as she felt the ground underneath her shake. There was a great, cracking noise outside and the sound of many heavy things falling. Finally recovering her wits somewhat she ran outside. When she reached the stone steps in front of the church she stopped dead in her tracks again. Across the street the village hall had partly collapsed. The right wall and a large part of the roof had caved and the surroundings of the village hall were filled with chunks of wood, glass and stones.

´Lord Grantham!´ she screamed his name the moment she realised he must be inside. Without thinking clearly she ran across the street to the entrance of the village hall and tried to open the door. She had to push against it with all her strength, but finally the door gave in a little and she manoeuvred her way in. Inside the wreckage was even greater. Half of the roof had caved in and roof tiles were shattered all over the ground. In the mist of all the wood and stones she tried to look for the presence of another human being.

´Milord!´ she yelled. ´Milord, are you there? Can you hear me? She looked around frantically and finally spotted his lifeless body lying on the ground. His upper legs were covered by a large, wooden beam. She ran over to him, never noticing pieces of stone and wood scraped at her legs and ankles, tearing up the thin stockings she wore. She knelt down next to him, taking in his injuries. There was a gush on his forehead and blood trickled down his face. But apart from this wound and the beam covering his legs, he appeared to have no other injuries.

´Lord Grantham,´ she tried again. `Please, wake up,´ He stirred and groaned and slowly opened his eyes. ´What the devil…´ he breathed heavily. ´What happened?´ Then his drowsiness turned into panic. ´What´s the matter with my legs…? I can´t move my legs!´

´The village hall has collapsed,´ Anna explained, ´and a beam has fallen on your legs. We need…´

Whatever she intended to say was cut off when a second part of the roof came crashing down. Upon instinct she ducked and protected her head with her arms while the falling stones and roof tiles caused a hellish racket. When it was over she looked around, noticing to her horror that some of the stones had fallen only an arm´s length away. Suddenly becoming very aware of the danger they were both in she frantically looked around, searching for a way out.

´Anna…´ Lord Grantham´s voice was hoarse and urgent. ´You need to get out of here, it´s too dangerous. Try and get help, but get out!´

´No!´ she answered vehemently. ´I´m not leaving you here. There must be a way…´ Still looking around she spotted the staircase in the middle of the room, still standing sturdy. It was only a few meters away. She could manage that. She had to manage that. If only she could lift the beam.

Standing up, she grabbed the beam with two hands, ignoring the cries of protest from the man lying underneath it. She pulled with all her might and slowly the beam lifted somewhat. Lord Grantham moaned in pain and she could see him clenching his fists. The beam was far heavier then she had ever expected. Only lifting it a few inches took all her strength and she knew she still had to move it away from his legs.

She couldn´t let go now. She couldn´t lower it down on his legs again, the pain would be unbearable for him to endure. Drops of perspiration formed on her forehead and she gritted her teeth, trying to muster all the strength she possessed to her arms. Unsteadily, she managed to take a small step to the right, pivoting the beam as she did so. Her back arched from the weight and she still had to take at least two more steps. Growling in frustration she took another step, straining her fingers around the beam, trying desperately to hold on. There was just too much decay, she barely had room to stand, let alone take another step. Summoning her last energy she pushed the beam away with everything she had it dropped to the floor with a loud crash, only a mere inch away from his Lordship's feet.

Sighing with relief she turned back to the man lying injured on the floor. ´Milord, I will have to move you. You´ll be safer underneath the stairs.´

He stared at her incredulously. ´You can´t lift me. Anna, this is madness!´

At that moment more roof tiles and stones started to fall down and Anna could feel panic getting the better of her. Dashing behind him she grabbed him under his armpits and lifted his upper body. As more stones began to fall she started dragging him towards the stairs. He screamed out in pain. Moving as quickly as she could she pulled and heaved, trying to get them both to the relative safety of the stairs. There was no coherent thought in her mind any more, just an instinct of wanting to survive. Finally reaching the stairs she let go and fell down beside him, every muscle in her body burning because of the strain she had put on them.

One of the carrier beams that had been attached to the ceiling came crashing down with such force she could feel the tremors in her stomach. When the dust cleared up a shiver of terror ran down her spine as she realized it had fallen in the exact same spot where they had been only a minute earlier.

Trying to pull herself together she turned her attention to her employer. His face was as white as a sheet and covered in sweat. He was breathing with great difficulty and seemed barely conscious. The wound on his forehead had started to bleed again, staining the right side of his face.

She took off her coat and folded it up, using it as a makeshift pillow to be placed under his head. Then she took out her handkerchief and carefully wiped some of the blood away from his face. He shuddered under her touch. Soon the small handkerchief was drenched in blood and she tossed it aside impatiently. Lifting her skirt, she tore a big portion from her underskirt and used it to bandage his head.

´I´ll try and get help!´ she told him. His eyes were still closed, but he managed a small nod. She crossed the distance between the stairs and the front door, carefully making her way between the debris and ruins. She only had to take one look to know it was useless. The entrance was completely blocked, it would take her hours to move all the stones away. Making her way back to their shelter under the stairs, she knelt down again next to Lord Grantham. To her relief, his eyes were open.

´How are you feeling, milord?´ she asked softly.

´Like the ceiling has come down on me,´ he answered with a groan.

She laughed a little at that, but it turned into a shudder as she could hear more stones falling. ´We´ll have to wait for help,´ she told his Lordship, trying to sound optimistic. ´I´m sure people will come soon.´

´Anna…´ he still spoke with considerable difficulty. ´I need you promise me something. If I don´t make it out of here…´

´Oh no, none of that,´ she interrupted him fiercely. ´We´ll both make it out of here!´

He continued as if he hadn´t heard her. ´… Tell my wife and daughters how much I love them, how proud I am of them… promise me you will tell them!´

There was such a desperate urgency in his voice it brought tears to her eyes. ´I won´t have to tell them,´ she told him. ´You´ll be able to tell them yourself. You´ll be home before you know it.´

´Just promise me,´ he insisted hoarsely. ´Promise me you´ll tell them.´

She relented helplessly to the plea in his voice. ´I promise… I´ll tell them.´

´Good…´ he closed his eyes and leaned back his head, trying to draw a deep breath. ´There´s one more thing… tell Bates… tell him I´m sorry… Africa… I never should have left him behind… feel the shame always… tell him… ´

Anna gasped at the words, a thousand questions rising up inside her. But before she could ponder on them for even a second, her attention was focused back to Lord Grantham´s laboured speech.

´Cora… we were so happy… I regret… not giving her a son… love her… so… so much…´ His voice faltered, his breath hitched in his throat and his head fell to the side.

Anna had never felt so afraid as she was in that moment. She shook his shoulder, called out his name but to no avail. She pressed her hand against his neck, desperately trying to feel his heartbeat. She could feel a slight, incredible feeble pulse. But he had slipped away in a complete state of unconsciousness.

Suddenly she became aware of the sound of voices outside. The right wall of the building had partly collapsed and she could see lights shining through the cracks and tears in the wall. She ran towards the sound, stumbling over a piece of wood, landing flat on her face, bruising her arms and chin. Scrambling to her feet again she plunged on, tears streaming down her face.

`Help! Help us!´ she yelled. Her words caused a stir of actions outside.

´Someone´s in there!´ she heard someone scream.

´How many of you are there?´ a male voice boomed.

´Just two,´ she screamed hoarsely. ´Lord Grantham and myself. But he´s hurt badly. He´s unconscious!´ More commotion could be heard outside.

´Miss… stay where you are,´ the voice instructed her. ´We´ll try to remove the debris as soon as we can!´

Looking back at the lifeless form of Lord Grantham, Anna couldn´t bear the thought of leaving him in what could be his final moments. Once again she made her way back to him. His face was ashen and his breathing was ragged and troubled. She grasped his hand and held on to it, desperately praying it wasn´t too late.

It took the men twenty minutes to clear the entrance, the longest minutes of her life. After that, everything happened very fast. Someone pulled her away from Lord Grantham and took her outside. They gave her some water to drink and placed a blanket around her shoulders. She watched as Lord Grantham was carried out of the village hall on a stretcher. Then she was ushered into a waiting car and told the house was already notified. It just all passed in a blur. Her head felt heavy and grey and she simply couldn´t respond any more to what was happening around her.

* * *

><p><strong>Drop me a line to let me know what you think, if you like! Reviews are always much appreciated. <strong>


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews! I´m having a great time writing this story and happy to say there´still a lot to come. I´m sorry this chapter is a bit on the short side though, it´s a bit of an in-between. _

**Chapter 6  
><strong>_July 1916_

When a boy from the village had banged on the door of the house and, upon being admitted inside, had brought his distressed tiding the house had turned into an uproar. Lady Grantham needed to be supported into the library by Sybil, and Dr Wellington and Isobel immediately started making preparations.

´They´ll be bringing his Lordship in, any minute now,´ the boy told Carson, who stood in the hall, accompanied by Mrs Hughes and Bates. ´There was someone with him, a woman… but I don´t know who it is.´

Bates gasped in shock and locked eyes with Mrs Hughes. ´Anna!´ they said simultaneously.

´You believe Anna is with him?´ Carson asked alarmed.

´She went to visit Enid this evening,´ Bates explained, a feeling of dread starting in the pit of his stomach. ´She should have been back by now.´ His eyes darted between the door and the butler and he gripped his cane tightly.

´Let´s all remain calm,´ Mrs Hughes said reasonably. ´We know she´s in the village, we don´t know if she was inside the village hall when it collapsed. We will know as soon as the his Lordship arrives.´

As on cue they heard the sound of a car on the driveway. Carson hurried to open the door, Dr Wellington and Isobel appearing in the hall ready to spring into action.

First the four men who were carrying Lord Grantham on a stretcher entered. Immediately Wellington and Isobel rushed to his side. Wellington only gave him one glance over and then barked: ´Take him to the ward! Iso.. Nurse Crawley, scissors and plenty of hot water!´

Behind them came Anna who was led in by a lorry driver. Bates was at her side instantly. ´Anna,´ he breathed, unable to keep the shock out of his face caused by her appearance. Most of her hair had come down from her bun and was filled with chalk and plaster. There was a nasty scratch on her chin and her face was grey with dust, tear-streaks obvious on her cheeks. She wore no coat, just a torn dress, covered in dust, gravel and – to his dismay- blood. He reached out to take her hand, but found them to be stained with blood as well.

´Anna… what happened to you?´ he asked urgently, fear etched on his face.

´The town hall collapsed…´ she answered in a toneless voice and then began to tremble uncontrollably. Not caring who saw them he took her in his arms and she collapsed against him, suddenly unable to stand any longer. ´I think he´s dead…´ she whimpered against his chest. ´He was so awfully pale…´

´Shhh…´ he murmured soothingly. ´The doctor is with him now and…´

His words were interrupted by the voice of Mrs Hughes. ´Mr Bates, Dr Wellington needs your assistance attending to his Lordship.´

He drew back a little, but still held her shoulders to support her. For a moment he couldn´t keep the look of annoyance from his face. ´Anna needs to be taken care of as well,´ he said defensively.

´Anna needs a hot bath more than anything,´ Mrs Hughes replied firmly. ´And Lord Grantham needs you.´ In a much gentler voice she added. ´Not to worry, I´ll take good care of her. Now go!´

Very reluctantly he allowed Mrs Hughes to support Anna and turned away. Before he exited the hall he couldn´t help but look back once more.

Mrs Hughes had placed her arm around Anna´s waist and carefully guided her upstairs to the servant´s bathroom. When she started to prepare the bath and attempted to help Anna out of her battered dress, Anna made a feeble sound of protest.

´Don´t be silly dear, I´ve been looking after girls for years for years. I flatter myself that I still know how to run a person a bath.´ Elsie´s voice was adamant. Too exhausted and taken by the events of the evening to protest, Anna let Mrs Hughes fuss over her. The housekeeper cleaned the wounds and scratches on her chin, legs and arms and carefully rinsed and shampooed the dirt from her hair.

Once she was cleaned up, Mrs Hughes left her to change into a clean nightdress and when she shuffled into her bedroom, Mrs Hughes was there again with hot, sweet tea.

´Here, drink this,´ she told her kindly but in a tone that left no room for argument. ´It´ll help you sleep.´ Anna dutifully sat down at the table and sipped the hot liquid. Just when she was about to finish her cup the door of her bedroom opened and Isobel Crawley walked in.

´Your valet, Mr Bates, insisted I would check up on you,´ she said with a small grin.

Seeing Isobel roused Anna from her dazed state. ´How´s his Lordship?´ she asked urgently. ´Will he be alright?´

´He´ll make a full recovery,´ Isobel reassured her, smiling warmly. ´His legs are severely bruised, but not broken. He has a nasty cut on his brow and lost a lot of blood because of it, but Dr Wellington stitched the wound nicely. His lungs suffered too, that´s why he lost conscious at the end. But nothing of his injuries are life-threatening and within time he´ll make a full recovery.´

A relieved smile lightened Anna´s face. `Thank goodness… I was so worried.´

´Well, let me have a look at you now,´ Isobel said matter-of-factly. ´Are you hurt anywhere?´ She took a step closer and scrutinized Anna closely.

Anna shook her head. ´No… just some scratches. Mrs Hughes took care of them already.´

´Were you with his lordship when the village hall collapsed?´ Elsie asked, no longer able to hid her curiosity.

´No, but I´d seen his lordship walk into the village hall,´ Anna replied. ´I was in church when I heard this terrible noise. I ran outside and saw the village hall had collapsed… so went in to look for him… and then another part of the roof came down and we were trapped.´

´You went into a collapsed building?´ Elsie asked shocked.

Anna shrugged slightly. ´Well… I knew he was in there, I had to do something.´ Unable to held it back, she yawned heavily. ´I´m sorry… I just feel so tired.´

´You look like you can barely keep your eyes open,´ Isobel told her. ´Get some sleep now, you´re exhausted.´

Gratefully Anna slid between the covers of her bed and was fast asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

´Would you like some tea?´ Elsie asked Isobel as they were descending down the stairs.

´Very much,´ Isobel answered. ´It´s been quite a night.´

When John Bates entered the servant´s hall a little past midnight he was greeted by three pairs of questioning eyes. If his heart hadn´t been so full he would have wondered at the unusual assembly. Mr Carson, Mrs Hughes and Mrs Crawley were sitting at the table, a large pot of tea in the middle.

´How´s his Lordship?´ Carson asked.

´He´s asleep now,´ Bates replied, pouring himself a cup of tea. ´He´ll be fine… he has regained consciousness and told us what happened at the village hall.´ Still reeling with everything he had heard he sat down, lost in his own thoughts. All of them circulating around Anna.

´Well…?´ Elsie snapped after about thirty seconds, the suspense getting the better of her. ´We´d like to know too…´

Bates lifted his eyes to the expecting looks of his three companions and related the story he heard only half an hour ago from Lord Grantham. ´His Lordship went in the village hall to check something. When he was in the right wing and part of the roof collapsed and he got trapped beneath a wooden beam. Anna heard the sound or…´ he frowned slightly. ´His Lordship wasn´t very clear…´

´Anna was in church when the village hall collapsed,´ Elsie filled in the blanks. ´She told us she heard a noise, saw what had happened and ran in the village hall. Once she was in another part went down and blocked the entrance.´

Comprehension dawned on Bates´ face. ´That makes sense… she was actually able to lift the beam from his legs… I don´t know how she managed that and then dragged him to the stairs for cover. After that the whole roof came down… That´s what his Lordship remembers…´ Bates finished. His face was a mixture of utter shock and wonder. ´She saved his life.´

´She dragged him all by herself?` Isobel asked incredulously. ´No wonder the girl was exhausted.´

´Well…´ Bates stared at the table, ´in dire situations, people can do things beyond their normal capacities. I´ve seen it happen… ´ A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. ´And Anna is strong…´

Isobel raised her eyebrows and shot Elsie a look to which she responded with a half-shrug.

´Still, what she did was very dangerous,´ Elsie said slowly. ´If she hadn´t managed… if that roof had come down seconds earlier she too would have been…´ Upon seeing the look of sheer terror on Bates´ face she swallowed the rest of the sentence.

´You´ll need to keep an eye on her,´ Isobel told her gently. ´I was worried about her earlier. She appeared so tired, as if she were exhausted to her core. If a person overtasks herself so much as she seems to have done tonight… her body will take its toll. She may need some time to recover.´

´She slept like a ton of bricks the moment she lay down,´ Elsie agreed. ´I´ve already been thinking. There´s an empty bed in the room, I´ll think I´ll make it and sleep there tonight to keep an eye on her.

´Well, that seems like the proper percussion,´ Carson´s deep voice rumbled in agreement.

Isobel dared to take one look at Bates and then looked down, trying to fight back the grin that attempted to spill across her lips. ´I´ll better be off to bed,´ she said, once she had regained her composure.

´Of course, the guest room is ready and waiting for you,´ Elsie told her. It always was when Isobel stayed late in case of crisis situation in the ward.

After Isobel had left, the other three made their way upstairs as well. Bates offered to lock up and when he finally came up Carson had already retired and Elsie had just finished making the spare bed in Anna´s room. Bates loitered around the door of the women´s corridor until Elsie came out.

´Yes Mr Bates?´ she inquired, her eyebrows raised.

´I wanted to ask how Anna is doing now,´ Bates replied, gaining all the composure he could muster.

´She´s still asleep, sleeping rather deeply I would say,´ Elsie reassured him.

´There will be no… lasting effects of this ordeal?´ Bates asked tentatively, his anxiety slipping through his guarded posture.

´I dare say there won´t be,´ Elsie replied, every suspicion she´d had about this man´s feelings for the head housemaid now thoroughly confirmed.

´You´re sure she will be perfectly alright then?´ he asked again, all pretence gone.

Elsie resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Looking into his troubled face she reached a decision. It was already a crazy day by any accounts, she reasoned.

´Would you like to see for yourself?´ she asked, opening the door to the women's´ corridor. It was more of a statement then a question.

His eyes widened in surprise, but he found himself nodding eagerly. He needed to see her, needed to see with his own eyes she would be alright. He followed the housekeeper through the corridor, marvelling at the privilege.

She opened the door to Anna´s bedroom for him, but as soon as he passed the threshold she told him in a warning voice: ´If you ever mention to anyone I allowed this, I will deny it to my grave.´ A look of understanding passed between them and he grinned slightly. ´Thank you, Mrs Hughes.´

Then his attention became entirely focussed on Anna. Looking at her nearly took his breath away. She was sleeping deeply, her eyes tightly shut and her breath coming in deep, even breaths through her slightly parted lips. Her face was flushed and she clutched the bedspread in one hand, the other lying next to her face.

It was the single most beautiful sight he had ever beheld. He marvelled at her strength, at her courage. A flash of a memory of his conversation with his Lordship earlier that evening came to his mind.

_´I told her to go, to save herself and let me be, but she refused,´ Lord Grantham had told him. ´She can be rather stubborn…´ his voice had sounded slightly surprised._

_´She can be,´ he had answered, unable to fight the smile or his face when he added. ´But she has a tendency of being stubborn and right at the same time.´_

She was amazing. And this amazing woman loved him, he realized in wonder. She loved him despite his past, despite of limitations. She´d accepted his leg, didn´t even seem to think twice about it. She accepted the fact that he was married and the boundaries that came with it. And still she loved him.

She may have saved Lord Grantham´s life this night. But she had saved all of him.

His saving grace.


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Wow, I´m a little overwhelmed by all the wonderful reviews... funny enough I myself wasn´t so sure about it. I owe a lot of thanks to my lovely beta _**stuckinpast**_ who has pointed out a lot of uncanonism in this chapter. (Is it a word?)  
>Enjoy the unraveling of the secrets!<em>

**Chapter 7  
><strong>_July 1916_

Two days after the village hall had collapsed, Anna was back on her feet again. She´d slept for fourteen hours straight after she´d gone to bed and had woken the following morning feeling groggy and very sore, feeling muscles she didn´t even knew she had. Isobel had explained to her it was because of the extraordinary effort she´d made in doing something that was almost physically impossible in normal circumstances and advised her to take it easy for a few days. Soon it became apparent that taking it easy was the only option she had; the whole house seemed determined to wrap her in cotton. Upon her Ladyship's insistence she was given three days off to recover.

As soon as she was out of bed and dressed Lady Grantham had come to her to thank her for saving her husband´s life. It had been a rather teary moment. Her ladyship was still very emotional from the shock of the previous evening and had cried openly as she expressed her gratitude, even going as far as to hug her.

After Lady Grantham had left, Sybil had come to her room. She had been much calmer and collected, but her words had come from the bottom of her heart. ´After losing Tom I couldn´t have borne to loose papa as well,´ she´d told Anna earnestly, her deep voice quivering slightly. ´You saved his life, Anna, and I´ll never forget it. If I ever find a way to do so, I will repay you.´

She´d accepted her thanks, but brushed away any notion of repaying. ´You´d have done the same thing, milady,´ she´d assured her. ´You would have stayed as well.´ But the determined look had never left the younger woman´s face.

And as long as she would live, she would never forget the look on John´s face after she´d finally got to see him the following day. With Mrs Hughes hovering over her like a mother hen they´d had very little time to talk privately, but he had looked at her with such a fierce look of pride and admiration in his eyes it left her breathless.

Lord Grantham was recovering well. He was not yet ready to leave his bed, but he was fully awake and aware of what had happened, counting himself blessed and thankful for having survived this disaster with relatively little injury.

On her last day off and after being stuck inside for three days she longed to be out for a bit and stretch her legs. Dressed in a light summer dress and a pelisse, and with her hat in her hand she entered the servant´s kitchen, finding Bates sitting at the table and Mrs Hughes at the store cabinet.

´Are you going out?´ the latter asked, taking in her attire.

´I am, if you don´t mind,´ she answered lightly. `I´m just going for a walk. I could do with a bit of fresh air.´

´Are you sure you´ll be alright on your own?´ Mrs Hughes asked worriedly. Upon Anna´s nod she added, ´I´d be easier if someone went with you.´

Elsie allowed herself the small entertainment of mentally counting the time before Mr Bates made a reply. She´d barely got passed one when he said: `I´d be happy to accompany you, Anna.´

She barely refrained from rolling her eyes at Anna´s straight-faced reply: ´That´s very kind of you, Mr Bates.´

Shaking her head she watched them exit the kitchen, Mr Bates being the perfect gentleman by holding the door open for her and taking her arm once they were outside. Just as she turned around she found Isobel standing in the doorway, a knowing smile on her face.

`Where are those two off to?´ she asked, obviously amused.

´Walking,´ Elsie replied drily. ´Would you care for a cup of tea?´

´Yes please,´ Isobel answered pleasantly. Together they made their way to her parlour. ´Am I seeing things in my old age, or is there something going on between them?´ Isobel asked once they were inside.

´It´s an unsolved mystery,´ Elsie replied thoughtfully, while pouring the tea. ´I can´t put my finger on it really. There´s something there and yet there isn´t. It´s obvious they´re head over heels with each other but I´ve never caught them displaying any kind of improper behaviour. There´s no sneaking off, no secret signalling… and believe me, I`ve been a housekeeper long enough to know every trick in the book. So either my age is getting to me as well and I´m imagining things like you are, or they are extremely adept in keeping their relationship secret.´

´Well,´ Isobel answered laughing. ´At least they seem happy.´

´They do,´ Elsie admitted. ´And happiness has become a rather precious trait these days.´

Just as she sat down to drink her tea the door of her pantry flew open and Charles Carson burst in, looking rather put out. ´Elsie, have you seen the check book of household accounts?´ he asked hurriedly. ´I can´t seem to find…´ he stopped mid-sentence when he realized she wasn´t alone in the room and flushed a nice shade of red.

´Mrs Crawley, I apologize,´ he said formally. ´I wasn´t aware you were here.´

´That´s quite alright, Mr Carson,´ Isobel answered easily. ´I was just having a cup of tea with Mrs Hughes.´

Elsie, who felt rather embarrassed herself now, mostly because of his embarrassment, took the check book from her desk and handed it to him. ´Here it is, Mr Carson. I used it this morning to check some numbers. I´m sorry for not returning it to you immediately.´

´That´s quite alright, Mrs Hughes,´ he replied formally, obviously still very ill at ease. ´I´m sorry for disturbing you.´

´That´s quite alright, Mr Carson,´ Elsie replied equally stiff, feeling more ridiculous with every passing second. He bowed- he actually bowed before leaving the parlour and Elsie sat down with a heavy sigh.

´I´m sorry about that,´ she said quietly.

´For what?´ Isobel asked bewildered. ´You think I would perish with shock to find out you two are on first name bases? Really, I would have done that if you hadn´t! How long do you know each other?´

´Fifteen years,´ Elsie replied. ´We´ve been _friends _for fifteen years.´

It didn´t escape Isobel that the word `friends´ sounded rather terse.

´That sounds a bit strained,´ she said carefully. ´Do you dislike him?´

´No!´ Elsie exclaimed rather vehemently. ´I don´t dislike him at all. Quite the contrary actually… I like him very much. In fact…´ She´d been too defensive, she realised when she saw the look on Isobel´s face. She looked as if she was only a second away from understanding.

´So… in fact you like him very much?´ Isobel summarized.

She knew she had given herself away. ´I do…,´ she confessed softly. ´I like him very much. But I´ve managed to work myself in a bit of a situation.´

´How so?´ Isobel asked, her voice a mixture of curiosity and concern.

´Well, you must promise me that you won´t breath a word to anyone,´ Elsie insisted. Upon Isobel´s immediate nod she began her tale.

´As you know, I came to Downton as a head housemaid fifteen years ago. When I came here Charles was already the butler. I must confess I never took much notice of him. He was cordial and nice, but also rather stuck on the rules. I never noticed any partiality on his part, but three years after I started working here he approached me one evening and told me that-´ Elsie smiled sadly at the memory. ´His exact words were that he had taken quite a fancy to me and would like to ask me if he could court me properly… romantic fool that he was.´

Elsie sighed deeply, her sigh filled with regret. ´But I was even a greater fool. I´d never expected this from him and at the time I wasn´t looking for an entanglement of any kind. I had seen my mother suffer through a hellish marriage and I was determined to remain independent. I loved my life at Downton and I had every ambition of becoming housekeeper. So I told him I wasn´t interested in him that way and that I didn´t believe I ever would. I was very firm about it I´m afraid… Charles was rather crestfallen in the weeks after that. He tried to avoid me and I could just tell he was unhappy. Which unsettled me, because that had never been my intention.

And the stupid thing was, the more he moved away from me, the more interested I became. I started to notice him. He was rather handsome in those days… tall and broad with raven black hair. Well, he is still handsome I think,´ Elsie blushed slightly, causing Isobel to chuckle.

´Oh dear,´ she said sympathetically.

Elsie nodded a little exasperated. ´And before you think it was only because of his looks back then, I also began to notice his personality. I discovered his death-panned sense of humour right underneath that dignified mask. He could sent me in a fit of hysteric giggles with one droll comment. After a while, things got better between us. He could look at me without looking mortified and one night, about half a year later he confided in me that he had started to walk out with Molly Adams… you know her, she´s a seamstress at the village.

And of course that´s when I knew,´ Elsie attempted to sound sarcastic, but in truth her voice betrayed the hurt. ´Just as he had fallen out of love with me, I realized I was very much in love with him.´

´Oh Elsie, I´m so sorry,´ Isobel sounded almost as heartbroken.

´Well… I only have myself to blame for it, I guess.´ Elsie drowned her last sip of tea. For the past decade we´ve been what can be described as formal friends, enjoying an excellent working relationship, but nothing beyond that.´

´You were only honest with him,´ Isobel reasoned. ´When he offered you didn´t have feelings for him, you can´t blame yourself for that. Did you ever try to imply your feelings towards him had changed?´

´I have,´ Elsie replied. ´I´ve asked him a couple of times over the years if he was happy, if he wanted different things from life… but I always got the impression he didn´t want anything else apart from his life here at Downton. And it´s not… ´ Elsie paused, trying to phrase her next words rightly, ´I haven´t been pining after him every day for the past fifteen years… my feelings for him tend to fluctuate a lot. There are periods when I´m perfectly content just being the housekeeper friend to his butler self, but in the end… if I´m honest, I wish we could be so much more.´

´And you never have told him this?´ Isobel asked.

Elsie shook her head. ´Whatever he ever felt for me has long passed. I doubt he even remembers it… And apart from that, I don´t want to risk what we have now.´

´I can see your point,´ Isobel agreed somewhat reluctantly. After some silence she asked: ´Whatever became of his relationship with Molly Adams?´

´What?´ Elsie looked bewildered for a moment. ´Oh… it didn´t last long, no more than a month if I remember correctly. I asked Charles about it once and he said he couldn´t make it work…´

Suddenly Isobel had a clear vision of Molly Adams , the seamstress in her mind, who she did in fact know. The woman was dark-haired, dark-eyed, outspoken, witty and known to possess quite a temper. Isobel stifled the urge to laugh out loud, perfectly understanding why Charles Carson hadn´t been able to make_ that_ relationship work. Her friend may be convinced that he was past those feelings for her, but Isobel wasn´t so sure. And she was determined to keep an eye on them.

* * *

><p>Her hand tucked away safely in the crook of his elbow – he insisted she still needed the support – Anna and John leisurely walked through the quiet streets of Downton village. Anna wanted to see the remains of the village hall. In the past days her memories had frequently returned to the place and had even dreamt about it. She need to see the place again with her own eyes, hoping to calm her mind somewhat.<p>

The day turned out to be rather dark and gloomy for July. Dark clouds were gathering above the village and it looked like a downpour wasn´t far away. Reaching the ruin of what had been the village hall they both stood there watching for a while. The devastation of the building only made it more clear to Anna that she was lucky to live to tell the tale. Apparently John´s thoughts were very similar to her own, because she could feel the shiver that passed through him.

´It´s a miracle you made it out of there alive,´ he told her softly.

She tightened her grip on his elbow, her other hand coming up to rub his arm. ´I did get out, that´s all that matters. We both did, thank heavens.´ She looked up at him. ´Did you see his Lordship this morning? How was he?´

´He´s improving rapidly,´ John reassured her. ´It won´t be long before he´ll be able to walk again.´ He flashed her a grin, squeezing her hand gently. ´You know they will place a statue in your honour on the grounds before the week is out, don´t you?´ he asked teasingly.

She ducked her head a little, starting to feel very embarrassed by all the gratitude everyone was bestowing on her. ´Don´t you start too… I only did what everyone else would have done.´

´That´s not true,´ his voice turned completely serious. ´Not many people would have ran into a half collapsed building, dragged a man twice their size to a safe spot and stayed with him when the rest of building came down.´ He thought it best not to look at her when he spoke the next words, knowing that if he did, his self-restraint would desert him very quickly. ´You´re a very special woman, Anna Smith.´

She didn´t reply, save from the way she squeezed his hand. She just stood there, her head resting against his shoulder, slightly leaning in to him, feeling ridiculously happy and embarrassed. She was also gathering the courage to ask the question that had been plaguing her thoughts for days now.

´John…´ she finally started softly.

´Hmmm…´ he hummed above her head

´There´s something I´ve been meaning to ask you,´ she started, turning slightly to face him. ´When we were in there,´ she indicated the village hall, ´there was a point when Lord Grantham was certain he wasn´t going to make it out alive… he… he asked me to tell her Ladyship and the girls that he loved them…´

If possible, the grip he had on her hand tightened even more and he started to stroke the back of her hand with his thumb. ´Oh, Anna…´ he murmured softly.

´He also said…´ she took a deep breath before she plunged on, ´he also wanted me to tell you that he was sorry about Africa… about leaving you behind.´

She watched how his eyes widened in shock. He broke their gaze for a moment, looking up at the sky and she could see the emotions playing across his face. But eventually he looked back at her, looking calm and resigned. ´Are you up for a rather long story?´ he asked her. In the distance they heard the sound of rumbling thunder.

She nodded wordlessly. Ever since Lord Grantham´s words she had known this was the last secret. The final thing he was keeping from her. He tugged at her hand, starting to walk to the church. ´We best get in, before the rain starts. Besides I think I need to be sitting when I tell you.`

The church was empty when they got in and they sat down on the last pew, sitting so they faced each other. He still held her hand within his grasp. Taking a few moments to sort out his thoughts and find a beginning, he started at last.

´Vera and I had been married for a year and I was stationed in London. Well, you´ve been to my army barracks. And although I tried, I wasn´t happy and I´m pretty sure she wasn´t either. So when Lord Grantham asked me to be his batman I jumped at the chance to go to war.

We were send to fight in the second Boer war. In the weeks we sat on the boat to South Africa we were being riled up with stories about savage Dutch settlers threatening the mighty British empire. By the time we got off we all believed that the Boer guerrillas embodied everything that was evil in the world and that it was our duty to put an end to their antics – using all means imaginable. And I was fool at the time , what did I know about war? It all seemed like a big adventure,´ he spat the last words bitterly.

Anna took his hand between her own, gently stroking his knuckles and fingers, silently urging him to continue.

´At first I was actually happy there, if you believe it. I enjoyed working for Lord Grantham, I was glad to be away from home and I honestly believed I was part of this heroic scheme to fight evil.

Eventually we were send to Wolmaransstad where some guerrillas from the Orange Free State were raiding the area, attacking a British column. The fight started in the early morning of February 25th… I´ll remember that day for as long as I live… I was on a brown stallion called Ares… I rode next to Lord Grantham when the Boers started a crossfire. His Lordship's horse got shot and literally dropped dead on the ground. I turned around in front him, trying to pull him on Ares… I had just managed that when the Boer guerrillas were closing in on us, and that´s when I got shot… the bullet went straight into my knee and I fell of the horse. I hit the ground head first, and after that everything turned black. They told me later I´d hit my head on a stone.´

All the time he had held his gaze firmly on his hand in hers, watching as she traced small patterns on its back. Now he finally looked up in her eyes, seeing them filled with terror. He smiled sadly at her, knowing the hardest part was yet to come.

´They told me what happened when I was unconscious. Lord Grantham was unable to get me back on the horse. When the Boers were only a few meters away he was forced to turn around and ride away, leaving me behind.´ He locked eyes with her. ´That´s what he meant when he said he was sorry. He felt terribly guilty about leaving me there. The thing is, I never blamed him for it. For all he knew I was dead.´

´But you weren´t…,´ she said in a small voice. While he was telling his story she´d been picturing the scenes inside her head. She could see the gunfire, him being shot and falling to the ground, wounded and bleeding, more dead than alive. The images tore at her heart.

´I wasn´t…,´ he affirmed. ´But by the time I came around it was dusk. The British army had left. The Boer soldiers were roaming the field, taking everything they found valuable. When I woke up the pain in my knee was killing me. I tried to play dead when they came near me, but when one of them poked me with the back of his rifle I screamed out… and they knew I was alive. They took me to their camp and put me in a tent, tying me to the pole in the middle…´

Upon seeing her horror-filled look he squeezed her hand. ´Believe it or not, it wasn´t so bad actually. They left me alone most of the time, and fed me. Only the wound on my knee started to get inflamed and because of it I acquired a fever. I spend five days there, but I hardly remember anything about it. I was delirious most of the time.

At that same time, and again, this is something I was told about later, a letter was delivered to the British army camp, informing Von Donop, who was the commanding officer that I was being held ransom and that they would trade me for the wife and daughter of the leader of one of the Boer troops, Mr De La Rey. At first Von Donop maintained he wouldn´t give in to blackmail, but Lord Grantham argued with them until he agreed to the transfer. So five days after I´d been captured by the Boers I was loaded on a cart and taken to a meeting point. Around that time my fever had reduced somewhat and I was able to take in what was happening around me. Another cart was approaching the meeting point and stopped next to the one I was on. The woman that stepped off it… Anna, I´ve never seen a woman look so thin. She was wearing a rag of a dress and I could see every bone of her body. There was no flesh left on her, just grey skin and bones.

And in her arms she was carrying a child, a girl no more than ten years old. At first I thought she was dead, that her mother was holding a skeleton. But then she opened her eyes… ´ He intertwined his fingers with hers, needing something to hold on as he continued, ´there was no life left in them. Just two hollow holes, I don´t think she was even conscious at that point….or at least I hope she wasn´t. The two of them were completely emaciated, they barely looked human anymore. Then there was this terrible noise and I looked… De la Rey had fallen to the ground on his knees and he was screaming… howling… I still hear it sometimes, or dream about it. He howled in anger and grief because of the state his wife and daughter were in. ´

By now Anna´s eyes were filling with tears. ´How did… what happened to them?´

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and sat back in the pew, taking her with him.

´I couldn´t let go of the image of the two of them,´ he continued. ´They took me to a field hospital and I had While I lay there recovering the memory of what I´d seen, of that girl especially became an obsession for me. I had to know what had happened, who had done this to her and how she had ended up in such a state. So I started to ask around, and finally I was told.´

Releasing the hold on her shoulders he leant forward, resting his arms on his knees. ´They told me about the camps… apparently, in an attempt to break the morale of the Boer soldiers, wives and children of the Dutch settlers were incarnated in camps. The conditions were terrible. No food, no clean water, no facilities… diseases spread, people died of starvation or infection and the children were the first to go…´ Disgust filled his faced. For a moment they were quiet and listened to the rain outside, while he gathered the words to tell the final part of his story.

´All that time I had believed I was fighting the war for a reason. I believed in a good side and a bad side, believed I was on the good side. A gentleman´s war…´ he gave a hollow laugh. ´There was no honour in that war, Anna. I didn´t return as a hero. Instead I´d been part of a disgrace to any moral standard.´ Once again he looked at her. ´Well, you know about the mess of things I made when I came back. And I´m not trying to make excuses for that – I could have, should have handled that very differently. But after the Boer war I lost my faith in what was good in the world.´

The memories overwhelmed him, in his mind he was back in South Africa, he could feel the hotness and humidity, hear the sound of riffles and that piercing, devastating scream of agony. The images followed fast, his fallen comrades, horses lying on the battlefield bleeding to death and that mother and her child… Then he became aware of Anna´s hands on his face, stroking his cheek and her voice calling his name. Slowly he made his way back to the present, allowing her do draw him in her arms, reminding himself over and over again that it was real, the warmth of her body and the skin of her neck as he pressed his face in it. She was here and he was there with her.

* * *

><p><em>Another AN: I got the idea for John´s war trauma when I was reading an article on Wikipedia about the camps during the Boer wars which included some pretty disturbing pictures. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8  
><strong>_August 1916_

A loud knock on the door of the guest room woke Isobel from her light slumber. ´Mrs Crawley?´ an urgent voice at the other side of the door implored. ´Could you come down, please? Mr Lennox has gotten much worse!´

´I´ll be out in a moment!´ Isobel called back to the nurse. Within seconds she was out of her bed and in her dressing gown. Not bothering to pin up her hair she slipped into her house shoes and stepped outside the room.

´I´m sorry to disturb you like this,´ the young nurse told her nervously. ´But Mr Lennox´s condition deteriorated so quickly that Dr Wellington asked me to fetch you.´

´That´s quite alright, Bessie,´ Isobel reassured her. ´I´ll come down this instant, although Dr Wellington will have to excuse my attire.´

Once downstairs she walked straight into the treatment room where she found Mr Lennox lying on the table, while Sybil administered the chloroform. Wellington was laying out instruments on a small side table. He looked up when Isobel entered and Isobel noticed his eyes widening as he took in her appearance. Immediately his jaw stiffened and his expression turned cold and disdainful. ´Nurse Crawley,´ he said icily. ´Thank you for joining us.´

Feeling ridiculously self-conscious all of a sudden, she put on an apron and used a bit of ribbon to tie her hair in a ponytail. ´How´s Mr Lennox?´ she asked trying to keep her voice even.

´His right foot is dying off,´ Wellington answered grimly. ´We´re going to amputate before the infection kills him. Sybil will keep him sedated and check is vital signs and I need you to assist me.´

Isobel squared her shoulders and tried to buckle up. She loathed performing amputations. The whole reason why she loved medicine was because of its ability to heal people. Amputating felt too much like doing the opposite. With an inward sigh she started to disinfect his leg.

`Is he out?´ Wellington asked Sybil once she was finished. Upon her affirmative nod he took a saw and turned to Isobel. ´Hold his leg.´

The sound of the saw going through the bones caused the hairs at the back of her neck stand up. The last days had been particularly gruesome. A new flood of wounded soldiers had entered Downton and she had been on her feet for many hours straight. Barely sleeping and not eating properly, the weariness finally began to caught up with her.

By the time she was bandaging the remains of Mr Lennox leg dawn had broken already. ´Will you go back to sleep for a few hours?´ Sybil asked her softly.

Isobel hesitated for a few seconds and then shook her head. ´No…, I´ll just get dressed. There´s so much to do.´ And indeed she was kept very busy until early afternoon. Around two o´clock she was famished and in dire need of someone to lift her spirits somewhat. Making her way to the entrance hall in search of Elsie, hoping she was available for a cup of tea, she ran into a small gathering instrad, consisting of Lady Grantham, the dowager countess and Dr Wellington.

´Ah cousin Isobel,´ Cora said pleasantly. ´We were just on our way to the library for some tea. Would you like to join us? And you too of course, Dr Wellington.´

´No thank you, Lady Grantham,´ Wellington replied immediately. ´I need to check up on a patient.´

After the morning she´d had Isobel felt that socializing with Violet Crawley was more or less the last thing she wanted to do, but she knew she couldn´t very well refuse. Unless of course Dr Wellington provided her with an excuse.

´Will you be needing my assistance?´ she asked him.

But naturally he didn´t deem it fit to oblige her. ´I´m sure I can manage, nurse Crawley.´ he replied coldly.

´Very well…´ Thoroughly annoyed with his attitude, she turned to Cora. ´I´d like some tea, thank you, cousin Cora.´

The dowager countess smirked audibly when Dr Wellington walked away. ´Oh dear**…**´ she said, her voice filled with glee. ´Don´t we get along?´

Biting back a sharp reply, Isobel ignored her comment and followed Cora into the library. But of course Violet Crawley wasn´t so easily diverted. Once they sat down and Carson had served them their tea Violet asked: ´How well do you know Dr Wellington?´

´Quite well I should think,´ Isobel tried to sound cheerful while being on her guard inwardly. ´I know him from Manchester, he was a good friend to my late husband and consequently of me.´ She was just about to congratulate herself on her diplomatic reply when Violet went in for the kill.

´Friends? My dear, I do not even pretend to like you and I behave more cordial towards you.´

´Well, not all of us have being unpleasant down to a fine art,´ she shot back smiling. Just as Cora started to look rather alarmed, Carson came to the rescue. He presented the dowager countess with a plate of chocolate cake.

´I can highly recommend them, your ladyship,´ he said easily. ´Mrs Patmore has recently improved her recipe.´

The sticky chocolate cake occupied Violet´s mouth for a while and Isobel shot Carson a thankful smile. And she could have sworn she saw the hint of a grin on his face before he said: ´I´ve always felt that a bit of a sweet tooth can go a long a way.´

Suddenly Isobel understood what Elsie meant when she said he could send her into a fit of hysteric giggles with one droll comment. Barely keeping in her own laughter, she felt decidedly better.

As soon as she was able to without appearing impolite, Isobel excused herself. Stepping into the ward again she was surprised to find Dr Clarkson there. Although she'd always found him a bit too cautious and as a result a little boring, she´d come to like him well enough in the time they´d worked together at Downton hospital.

´Ah, Mrs Crawley,´ he greeted her warmly, taking her hand between his and patting it. ´I´ve come to see how you´re faring here.´

He was always just a tiny bit condescending around her- or around any female member of the staff, she´d noticed years ago and it prevented her from being completely herself around him. Forcing a friendly tone in her voice she answered: ´Well then, let me show you around.´

After he had seen the convalescent home, pointing out again and again how professional and well- organized it was looking until it just didn´t sound true anymore she introduced him to Dr Wellington. She couldn´t help but feel slightly amused as she compared the two men who could not have been more different from each other. Dr Clarkson, talking quickly and gesturing erratically, all politeness and eager to please opposed to Wellington´s tall form, quietness and solemn answers.

She cringed a little when Dr Clarkson said: ´You´re very lucky to have the assistance of Mrs Crawley.´ He looked at her as a particular proud grandfather would look at his granddaughter. ´For a woman, she definitely knows how to stand her ground in a hospital.´

A look of total bewilderment passed over Wellington´s face. But it was nothing compared to the bewilderment Isobel felt when he replied in a terse voice: ´Woman or not, she´s an exemplary fine nurse and that´s all I´m concerned about.´

Turning the odd comment around in her mind she decided to take it as a compliment. However, she was spared the task of making an answer as Sybil came in, holding out a letter to her. ´This was just delivered, cousin Isobel… ´ slightly anxious she added. ´It looks like it comes from abroad.´

Grasping the letter, Isobel only had to take one look at the handwriting before she knew. Paling and clutching the letter tightly she excused herself to the two men standing in front of her and ran to the treatment room.

* * *

><p>Elsie didn´t notice the piece of paper until she sat down on her settee and her gaze wandered over the floor. Surprised she picked it up and turned it around. Someone must have put it inside her parlour. It appeared to be a page from a book, not torn, but carefully slid out. It contained a Shakespeare sonnet.<p>

_When to the sessions of sweet silent thought  
>I summon up remembrance of things past,<br>I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,  
>And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:<br>Then can I drown an eye, unused to flow,  
>For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,<br>And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,  
>And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:<br>Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,  
>And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er<br>The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,  
>Which I new pay as if not paid before.<br>But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,  
>All losses are restored and sorrows end.<em>

Underneath the sonnet only one letter was scribbled: _C_.

She could have sworn her heart stopped beating for a second. Would he have… would Charles have left this for her? But why? And when? And why now? And what did it mean? She tried to order her thoughts and be rational about it. He was the only one who would enter her parlour when she wasn´t in it. And the initials were a rather obvious clue.

Was this how he felt about her – still felt about her? her less rational side wondered. The choice of sonnet indicated he still harboured some feelings for her. Her eyes went back to the lines of the sonnet. _But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, all losses are restored and sorrows end._ Was that how he saw her? What did it tell her about his feelings for her? Did he mean to point out she was his friend after everything that had transpired between them? Or was he perhaps hinting at something more? But why now? What had he started to express these feelings now all of a sudden. She was shaken out of her reverie by a knock on the door. Calling for admittance**,** she felt herself blushing when Charles stepped in.

If he noticed the piece of paper in her hands he made no indication that he had. Then again, keeping an even face at all times was one of his greatest traits. He closed the door behind him to make sure they weren´t overheard and she could feel her heart skip another beat.

´Elsie,´ he told her – him using her name at this moment did nothing for the flustered state she was in- ´I thought you might like to know that Mrs Crawley has received a letter from France. I have reason to believe it´s from Mr Crawley.´

Worry for her friend caused Elsie to regain her composure somewhat. ´Oh dear… I hope it´s not too bad news,´ she said quietly.

He smiled softly at her. `I hope so too.´

Gazing in his eyes she found herself getting lost a bit. He stared back at her for a while, until he blinked, looking slightly confused. She looked down at her shoes, biting her lip and trying to calm her fluttering stomach. ´I´d better check on her, then… Thank you for telling me Charles.´

´You´re welcome, Elsie,´ he answered. She brushed past him, unable to meet his eyes again, leaving him standing in the middle of her parlour with a bit of a dazed expression on his face. It wasn´t until she was in the hall that she noticed she was still clutching the sonnet.

* * *

><p>The letter was short.<p>

_Verdun, August 23nd 1916_

_Dear mother,  
>Rest assured that I am alive and safe. During the last battle I got injured. Please don´t be alarmed, I am no longer in danger and the doctors here have assured me I will make a full recovery. I was shot in the back, but the bullet has been removed. I´ve been staying at the military hospital at Etaples for the past six week and this morning I received word that I am able to be transported. I expect to return to Downton on the 15th of October.<em>

_Your loving son,  
>Matthew<em>

Isobel found herself trembling and sobbing as she re-read the words again, experiencing rather contradicting feelings. On the one hand she was thrilled because he was alive. On the other hand she was out of her mind with worry. He told her not to be alarmed, but how could she not be after learning he had been shot in the back? But he was coming home and he would fully recover from whatever injury he had. Not quite knowing whether to laugh in relief or to cry in shock she did a little bit of both.

And so Timothy Wellington found her a few minutes later. ´Are you alright? He asked in an alarmed tone of voice.

´Yes… no…,´ Isobel still sobbed, ´Matthew- my son is coming home!´

He turned around at her words and left the room and at first Isobel thought he had retreated into his usual icy, disdainful ivory tower, causing her to sober up somewhat. But moments later he returned, holding a glass of water.

`Here,´ he told her calmly, thrusting the glass in her hands. ´Drink slowly.´

More out of shock than anything else by his surprising behaviour, Isobel took a few sips. ´I´m sorry...´ she managed eventually. ´I suppose I´m rather… confused…´

´I can imagine,´ he answered, taking the glass from her hands. ´What happened to your son?´

´He was shot at Verdun,´ Isobel told him. ´He writes they´ve managed to get the bullet from his back. He´s been staying at a hospital there and now he´s able to be travel he´ll be home in a few weeks.´

´Will he recover?´ Wellington asked.

´The doctors there seem to think so,´ Isobel replied.

´What hospital did they take him to?´ Isobel was used to his brisk manner of questioning. And since she could hear a genuine interest in his questions she answered: ´He writes he´s been staying at the military hospital in Etaples.´

His face relaxed a little at that. ´A friend of mine is stationed there,´ he told her. ´We´ve been in touch these past years. It´s a good hospital, very well equipped. Your son stands a good chance if they´ve helped him there.´

His words actually managed to ease her worries somewhat. She looked thoughtfully at his face. If he wasn´t scowling down at her, he could be rather pleasant. There was a soft knock on the door and then Elsie stepped in, wearing a worried expression.

´Char- Mr Carson told me you´ve received a letter,´ she began carefully. ´Is everything alright?´

´Yes,´ Isobel replied, a relieved smile spreading over her face. ´Yes, everything is alright. Matthew is coming home. He´s injured, but he will be alright.´

´That´s wonderful news,´ Elsie answered, the concern leaving her face. ´Lord and Lady Grantham will be very glad to hear that. But in the meantime,´ she looked imploringly at Isobel, ´do you care for a cup of tea? You do look a little shaken, if you don´t mind me saying so.´

´I agree, Mrs Hughes,´ Wellington cut in. ´Mrs Crawley should be provided with tea and the possibility to be off her feet for the good part of half an hour. Although I admit, it is rather a challenge to accomplish her to do that.´ For a moment he grinned and the change on his face was miraculous, Isobel noticed with surprise.

´I´m sure I can manage,´ Elsie replied with a smirk.

Isobel turned to face Wellington and placed her hand on his arm for a moment. ´Thank you.´ she said warmly, looking straight in his eyes. She didn´t wait for his face to turn into the cold mask again, she just turned around and followed Elsie out of the ward, a rather poignant look of wonder on her face.

Nearing her parlour, Elsie gave her sideways glance. ´You really look like you need to sit down, you know,` she commented off-handed. Isobel´s absent-minded reply however gave her quite a start.

´He has dimples.´

* * *

><p>After the two women had left Timothy Wellington turned around and rested his hand on the table, closing his eyes and breathing heavily. He felt the knots in his neck and shoulders, the result of months of pent up tension. He tried not to remember how her hand had felt on his arm - tried not to feel how her touch still burned there. He tried not to remember how she always smelled of vanilla. He tried not to remember how her beautiful dark blonde hair had looked that morning, falling freely and wavy across her shoulders and back – he tried not to think about what it would feel like to bury his hands in it…<p>

He tried, but failed hopelessly.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Elsie was given sonnet 30_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: I confess, it´s a lot of fun to have everyone guessing where the sonnets are coming from... Thanks for the reviews! _

**Chapter 9  
><strong>_September 1916_

In the weeks that followed Elsie regularly found little tokens in her parlour. Sometimes they were little trinkets like chocolates or flowers and very often it were poems or sonnets. They were always cut carefully from books and always signed with the same initials: _C_. She was almost sure these attentions came from Charles. But the fact that he never indicated anything in person unnerved her somewhat. In the beginning she had tried to hint a little how much she enjoyed his courting, but he had just looked at her blankly and moved away. Still they kept coming and she gathered that it was probably part of his design to feign ignorance. Thrilled that he seemed to be renewing his addresses and overjoyed at the second chance she was given, she decided to play along. And one day after lunch she got the conformation that it was indeed Charles Carson who was trying to woo her – the implications of the sonnet were impossible to miss.

_Let me not to the marriage of true minds  
>Admit impediments. Love is not love<br>Which alters when it alteration finds,  
>Or bends with the remover to remove:<br>O no! it is an ever-fixed mark  
>That looks on tempests and is never shaken;<br>It is the star to every wandering bark,  
>Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.<br>Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks  
>Within his bending sickle's compass come:<br>Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
>But bears it out even to the edge of doom.<br>If this be error and upon me proved,  
>no man ever loved.<em>

_C_

She was on the verge of crying happy tears when she finished the sonnet for the fourth time. He still loved her after all this time. Knowing she could be disturbed any moment, she pushed back her tears and resolved to make it absolutely clear to him that this time she was very much returning his feelings.

Making her way to the ward to overlook the laundry maids as the stripped the beds and remade the beds she was surprised to find Dr Clarkson in there, talking to Dr Wellington. Apparently he was ready to leave as he was just saying: ´Good day to you, Timothy.´

´Good day Richard,´ Wellington greeted back, returning to filling out the status cards.

´Dr Clarkson seems to be visiting a lot these days,´ Elsie remarked to Isobel who was busy sorting out and winding up bandages.

´He certainly does,´ Isobel replied lightly on the account of two other nurses who were busy scrubbing bedpans. Only Elsie could see her rolling her eyes . ´I think he´s been by every single day in the past three weeks.´

´Perhaps he wants to convince you to come back to Downton hospital,´ Elsie grinned. Upon seeing the look of exasperation she couldn´t resist some more teasing. ´Perhaps he just misses you too much… it would certainly explain his frequent visits.´ She was about to say more, but then she noticed Dr Wellington had turned around and was watching them. The look on his face could only be described as murderous. He quickly got to his feet and strolled past them, while only barking a short ´Excuse me ladies, I need to step out for a bit,´ at them.

´I thought he was warming up to you a bit,´ Elsie commented after he´d gone. ´He did seem a lot friendlier to you the day you received Matthew´s letter.´

Isobel looked extremely annoyed. ´Don´t get me started,´ she grumbled angrily. Heaving a sigh she added softly, as to not be overheard by the two nurses. ´How about I´ll tell you this evening over tea?´

Nodding her agreement, Elsie noticed the tension in her voice and she worried about it. Isobel Crawley was perhaps one of the most collected, good-humoured people she knew. Apparently Dr Timothy Wellington had really gotten under her skin this time.

* * *

><p>A little while later, after Elsie had left again to attend to some other business in the house, Isobel left the ward to retrieve some supplies from the medical store-room, inwardly still fuming about Wellington´s unpredictable behaviour. After his display of thoughtfulness after she had received Matthew´s letter she had hoped things would improve between them. But instead it seemed they had gotten worse if that was at all possible. He never outright criticised her or questioned her capabilities as a nurse. In fact, when they were working together they got along just fine. It was just his manner towards her – so frozen and distant that was getting to her. She wouldn´t have minded if he treated everyone like that, but that was just it – he was perfectly cordial towards Elsie, or Cora or Sybil or even one of the other young nurses. Only around her he turned into a bear.<p>

Upon re-entering she could hear Bessie and Catherine – the other nurse **-** talking. Retreating behind the door she stopped dead in her tracks as she heard the topic of their conversation, her eyes growing large in astonishment.

´What are you thinking about Dr Wellington then?´ Bessie asked.

´Ohh…´ Catherine cooed. 'It's a shame he's so old! If only I were a bit older, or better yet, he a bit younger. I think he´s gorgeous!´

´Really?´ Bessie asked bewildered. Isobel could do little else then echo that sentiment and conclude that Catherine was indeed a very silly girl. Much sillier then Bessie, although she was a great deal older.

´Of course,´ Catherine answered. ´He´s so tall and lean and so distinguished with his grey hair. And he certainly has an heroic bone-structure.´

Isobel resisted the attempt to snort. An heroic bone-structure… of all the nonsense…

´And then his hands,´ Catherine continued dreamy. ´They must be very strong and…´ There Isobel decided she had heard quite enough.

´Girls!´ she bellowed, stepping inside the ward and seeing much to her satisfaction that the girls both jumped out of their skin. ´I am sure there are more important things to do than standing here and discussing the physical appearance of our physician. Kindly return to your duties and stop this nonsense immediately!´

Her already bad mood sank even further. Really, the idiocy of those girls. Had she ever been so shallow herself when she was that age? Certainly he was nice to look at. A lot of men his age definitely looked worse for wear. But what did it matter if his personality was that of a great ogre? Even if he was tall and lean and had dimples and steel blue eyes.

_Really**,** Isobel Crawley, don´t you start as well_, she scolded herself. _He may be a good-looking man, but he treats you like a bug. And that´s all there is to it._

* * *

><p>Elsie watched in the door opening as Charles instructed the houseboys how to knot their ties, amusement clearly written over her features. He was being utterly adorable.<p>

´You see, you keep your index finger on the knot and then you drape this part around it… ´ he demonstrated the act with his own tie, both boys copying his movements eagerly, both of them getting their fingers hopelessly entangled in their ties.

`No… no… you need to…´ Charles attempted to unknot the piece of fabric from around the young Davy´s finger, only resulting in getting his finger even tighter stuck. ´Oh dear…´ Charles apologized in a gruff voice. `I seems I can only do my own tie.´

Deciding to step in before either Davy or Eric lost a finger Elsie stepped up and placed her hand on Charles´ shoulder, feeling him stiffen a little in surprise.

´Allow me to help,´ she said breezily and quickly freed Davy´s finger from the trap of his own tie.

´Watch closely, boys,´ she said to the lads and then turned to Charles. ´Mr Carson, allow me to demonstrate on you?´ she asked with a bit of a glint in her eye that didn´t go unnoticed.

He swallowed with some difficulty. ´Certainly, Mrs Hughes.´

Standing close to him she undid his tie. ´Well, you put your thumb on one end of the fabric and then circle the other end of it around it. Then you pull that same end through the loop and pull. Just don´t forget to move your thumb before the knot gets too tight.`

He found that feeling her breath tickle the skin of his neck was very unnerving, so he swallowed again. Goodness, she had knotted his tie rather tightly, hadn´t she?

Turning around to watch the boys as they tried again she purposely let her hand rest on his chest. After a bit Davy yelped in excitement. ´I did it!´ He received his well-deserved praise from both the butler and the housekeeper. Meanwhile poor Eric struggled along. ´I can´t get it right,´ he wailed eventually. ´Mrs Hughes, could you show me again, please?´

It was too good an opportunity to pass up. She smiled sweetly at Charles who found himself nodding, torn between alarm and anticipation. She undid his tie for the second time and showed Eric the procedure again. Only this much, much slower. The man must have an enormous lung capacity, she mused. Because he hardly drew breath the entire time.

After this rather thorough tutorial Eric managed to knot his tie as well and was duly praised for it too. Then both boys were send on their way.

Charles cleared his throat but found that his voice sounded somewhat hoarse when he spoke. ´Thank you, Elsie. You… you´ve been most helpful.´

´My pleasure, Charles,´ she answered still smiling, holding his gaze until he nervously turned away.

* * *

><p>Sybil sighed impatiently. Given the choice she rather worked together with Bessie then with Catherine, since the latter had an unfortunate tendency to gossip viciously. And today´s topic was Isobel Crawley.<p>

´Really, I don´t see why she has to put up all these airs and graces,´ Catherine fumed. ´She´s a nurse just like us.

´Well, she is a very experienced nurse,´ Sybil interjected. ´And I like her a lot.´

´Well, I don´t,´ Catherine said decidedly. ´I think she´s a mean, old hag!´

´Would you care to repeat that to me?´ Wellington´s voice sounded so low he was practically hissing, causing Catherine to jump for the second time that day. Turning around quickly she answered.

´I wasn´t talking about you, Dr Wellington…´

Wellington´s eyes were shooting daggers at the girl who cowered slightly. ´I ask you again, would you care to repeat what you said about Mrs Crawley to me?´ His voice had an almost venomous edge now and was slowly rising in volume.

´No sir,´ Catherine squeaked.

´Then you´ll mind to never – ever again use such words in regard to Mrs Crawley. As your senior in both rank and capability you owe her nothing but the utmost respect and if I ever hear you slander her like that again I´ll personally make sure you´ll be dismissed from your post before you can blink your eyes! Do I make myself clear?´ he thundered.

´Yes Doctor Wellington.´ Catherine quivered, tears in her eyes.

´Now get out!´

Catherine scampered away and Wellington turned to Sybil, still seething with anger. ´Has she ever caused problems for Mrs Crawley before?´ he bit.

Sybil shook her head, feeling rather terrified herself. ´No… she just likes to gossip a lot.´

´Well, be sure to notify me at once the moment that girl gives Mrs Crawley a hard time again,´ he instructed her. ´I will not stand for such behaviour.´

´Yes, doctor, I will,´ Sybil thought it wise not to refuse him anything at this point, but privately feeling he was a bit of hypocrite. If there was anyone who was giving Isobel a hard time it was him. As Dr Wellington stamped off, she wondered very much about his conflicted behaviour.

* * *

><p>Working together on the status reports at his desk in his office that evening, Isobel decided that their strained relationship had now officially reached the point of it being frozen. The only thing that kept her from going barking mad what the thought of having tea with Elsie later, probably allowing her the opportunity to vent some of her frustration with the man sitting next to her.<p>

´Could you pass me Mr Gaskell´s status**,** please?´ she asked in the politest tone she could muster.

´Certainly,´ he replied curtly, handing her the chart without even looking at her.

She felt ready to explode with fury. Inwardly counting to ten she relieved some of the anger by furiously tapping the end of her pencil on the wooden surface of the desk.

´Stop that!´ he spat.

And then she snapped. Jumping to her feet she threw the pencil on the table and fired off. ´´Pray tell, what is your problem with me?´

Ignoring his shocked expression she pushed on, finally releasing months of frustration. ´What have I ever done to you that caused you to dislike me so much? Please enlighten me, because I´m thoroughly sick of the whole house gossiping behind my back what it is about me that seems to aggravate you so much!´

He had gotten to his feet as well now, his face the usual unreadable, frosty mask. `I assure you Mrs Crawley that I do not have any negative feelings towards you…´

Isobel interrupted him with a humourless snort. ´Oh, really…, then you certainly have fooled me. Just say it! What did I ever do to you that merits such loathing?´

´I do not loath you,´ he replied tersely, his jaw tightening and his fist clenching.

Feeling oddly calm and resigned all of a sudden, Isobel bowed her head. ´Very well… we´re not getting anywhere it seems. I´ll ask Dr Clarkson if I can return to Downton hospital. I will make the arrangements as soon as possible.´

´You cannot do that!´ Wellington replied, displaying his own anger now.

Isobel looked him square in the eye and stood as tall as she could. ´I can and I will. You seem unable to control your feelings towards me, so that leaves me with little other option that to leave.´

He turned deathly pale at her words. ´How dare you…´ his growled hoarsely. ´You have no idea about the self-control it has cost me…´

´Self-control?´ she exclaimed in a disbelieving voice. ´Based on your actions in the past months I can only conclude you have very little of that…´

The next moment Isobel found herself pinned between the wall and his body, his mouth covering hers. His hands gripped her waist tightly, lifting her and pulling her flat against his body. His lips moved over hers, searching, demanding and when she gasped in surprise he used the opportunity to deepen the kiss. The taste of him send all her rational thoughts packing. She found herself responding, her lips softening under his and moving in rhythm with his. Her hands that had been on his shoulders now slipped around his neck and in the collar of his jacket. He loosened his death grip on her waist somewhat, one hand rubbing its way up over her back and tangling itself in her hair. He was the first to break away from her lips, but only to place soft kisses on her cheeks an chin.

If his kiss had left her breathless and made her toes curl, it was nothing to the sensation that swept through her when he breathed her name against her skin. There was such a desire and longing in his voice that she was sure her knees would have given out if she hadn´t clung to him in the way she did.

He claimed her lips in a kiss again, less demanding this time but equally deep and passionate. This time it was her who pulled back. Caused by the almighty sound of clattering crockery and a yelp of surprise.

Standing in the doorway stood Elsie, wearing a look of total shock and standing in the middle of what two seconds ago had been a teapot.

´S-sorry… forgive me,´ Wellington stammered. He couldn´t have looked more in shock if he had just murdered someone. Too dazed to come up with any coherent thought, let alone a reply, Isobel watched him exit the office.

´What the blazes is happening here?´ Elsie demanded, her Scottish accent more apparent than ever.

Isobel felt her mouth really wasn´t ready to start talking just yet, but eventually she managed. ´I think tea is very much in order, Elsie.´

* * *

><p><em>AN: and today Elsie was given sonnet 116_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: I´m sorry about the skip yesterday... I got home really late and crashed straight into my bed. Hope you´ll enjoy it! _

**Chapter 10  
><strong>_September 1916_

While Elsie made new tea, Isobel tried to regain her composure somewhat. Staring in the fire at Elsie´s parlour she replayed the scene in her mind again and again.

`Would you like to tell me what happened?´ Elsie asked gently, interrupting her thoughts and handing her a steaming cup of tea.

´We were fighting…´ Isobel began, still very much organizing her thoughts. Upon seeing Elsie´s raised eyebrows she added, ´well… before…´

`I became so upset with his behaviour towards me that I lost my temper. I´ve always wondered why he disliked me so much – even back in Manchester. I´m afraid I yelled at him, telling him I´d be going back to Downton hospital and then…´ she blushed deeply. ´Well, you saw what happened next.´

Elsie nodded thoughtfully. ´Was he this uncivil to you in Manchester as well?´ she asked.

Isobel shrugged. ´I remember him being quiet friendly and charming when I first met him and perhaps on two or three occasions after that. He was Reginald´s best friend, they knew each other from the university. But after some time he became distant and cold. I didn´t meet him often after that and I think he avoided me. I´ve asked Reginald about it, but he shrugged it off, saying he was a bit awkward around women. But I never believed that. The change in his behaviour was to sudden for that. I´ve wrecked my brain, trying to remember what I did or said that made him so upset with me, but I honestly can´t think of anything…´

Isobel appeared so genuinely bothered, it caused Elsie´s suspicions to increase. Tentatively she asked: ´And how do you feel about him?´

Her friend let out a little laugh. ´I´d start by saying very confused…´ Warily she continued. ´I wished I could just dislike him as much as he seems to dislike me… But I can´t. He´s a gifted doctor and despite his behaviour sometimes I think he´s a good man. I just… I can´t stand the fact that he dislikes me so much… I don´t mind Violet Crawley wanting to drink my blood, but him… And then he kisses me tonight! Out of nowhere… Do you think it´s possible to kiss someone out of sheer dislike?´ she asked in an uncertain voice.

´Well…´ Elsie began hesitantly. ´He appears to be a very complicated man… and his behaviour and actions leave me as dumbfounded as you… but unless I´m very much mistaken, it didn´t look like he kissed you out of dislike. Although I have to ask…´ looking down for a moment, Elsie took care to phrase the next words very carefully, concern obvious in her voice, ´did he hurt you or force you?`

´No!´ Isobel´s answer came immediate and very certain. Remembering her own reaction to his kiss and to the feel of his arms around her, she blushed again furiously. ´It took me completely by surprise but it was not… unwelcome.´

The answer relieved Elsie´s concern in one area, but caused her to greatly worry in another. Pouring her another cup of tea she very much feared Isobel´s heart was in danger of falling hard for the unreadable Dr Wellington. And whether he returned those sentiments was yet very much the question.

* * *

><p>Elsie found that showing Charles how much she actually cared for him was much easier then she had anticipated. For years she had practised self-restraint until she didn´t know any better. Now she could just follow her impulse – to some extent. And there seemed to be many options to make her interest in him apparent. A slight lingering of her hand on his arm of shoulder as she brushed passed him in the corridor. Allowing her voice to sound just a tad velvety when she spoke to him. Holding his gaze for a few seconds longer then she would normally have. It was liberating and she enjoyed every second of it.<p>

One morning she got another opportunity and she took full advantage of it. He was standing near one of the cupboards in a rather deserted hallway, busily unpacking some boxes.

´Can I help you with that?´ she asked happily, stepping close beside him.

He jumped a little in surprise, but relaxed when he saw it was her and smiled warmly. ´I´m stocking up our supply of tea since we were quite in danger of running out of it. And since you´re largely responsible for that, you may indeed help me.´

She arched her eyebrows in question. ´And how exactly is the deplorable state of our tea supply my responsibility?´

He grinned a little in answer. ´I´m thrilled that you and Mrs Crawley have become such good friends, but goodness, woman, do you both have investments in a tea plantation?´

Realizing he was only jesting, she nudged his shoulder playfully. ´Very well, I´ll help you. I wouldn´t want my social life adding to your burden.´ Taking one of the smaller boxes out of the box the stood on her tiptoes to place it on the upper shelf. It was just a few inches too high for her to really reach it, but stretching herself as high as she could she attempted nevertheless. Just as his arm came up to assist her and push the box on the shelf she lost her balance and tripped.

His reflexes kicking in he slipped his arms around her waist to steady her. But he couldn´t prevent the box from falling straight on her head.

´Ouch…,´ she grumbled more out of shock then in pain. Thankfully, the box was only filled with tea and not very heavy.

´Elsie!´ he exclaimed in alarm. ´Are you alright?´ On of is hands came up to her head and carefully touched her head, examining her for bumps and bruises. ´I´m so sorry!´

´It´s not your fault Charles, ´ she replied warily. ´And I´m fine.´

´You always say that,´ he grumbled, still running his fingers through her hair, probing her scalp gently. ´Are you feeling dizzy or light-headed?´

She would have laughed at it, if it hadn´t caused him more worry. She was feeling very dizzy and light-headed and it had everything to do with him. Rationally she knew he was only steadying her and checking for injury, but at this moment she preferred to think he was holding her in his arms and stroking her hair.

´I´m fine, really Charles,´ she insisted, raising her eyes to his. When their eyes locked, his hand on

her head stilled. They stared at each other without saying a word, completely transfixed. Breathing became an almost impossible endeavour and when she realized his gaze had moved a little lower and he was now staring rather intently at her lips and her heart fluttered. Biting her lower lip nervously, she could feel his grip on her waist tightening.

´Elsie…´ he whispered huskily, leaning into her.

Tilting her head a little she stood once again on her tiptoes to meet him, this time secure in the knowledge she was already safely held by him. Just as she was about to close her eyes a voice broke their moment.

´Mrs Hughes? Are you there?´ Jumping apart like a bolt of lightning they were only just in time before Anna rounded the corner, looking blissfully ignorant about what she had just interrupted.

´Mrs Hughes, her Ladyship is asking for you. She´s in the library.´

´Yes… Of course…´ Elsie stammered. She took in the incredulous look on Charles´ face and vigorously attempting to control her own emotions. Decided it would be best to allow him – and herself some time to reorganize she flashed him a little smile and then followed Anna to the library.

* * *

><p>It had been two days since that kiss. That memorable, passionate, shockingly unexpected kiss. And Isobel felt she still hadn´t quite recovered from it. She memories came at the oddest moments. She could be talking to Cora and suddenly remember how his lips felt against hers or how he had looked at her in that brief moment after he´d first pulled back. Whenever she remembered a warm feeling swept through her. Something had stirred deeply inside her when he´d whispered her name with so much feeling. It made her heart ache for him. Deep down, she knew he didn´t really dislike her. Or at least it wasn´t all he was feeling. And she found she very much wanted to know why. He had managed to avoid her all of yesterday. But today, she resolved, he would not be so lucky. She needed answers from him.<p>

By the end of the afternoon she found him in his office. Entering without knocking and shutting the door firmly behind him she was determined not to leave before matters had been resolved between them. Although being alone in this room again with him certainly didn´t make things easier.

He looked up in surprise as he heard someone entering and paled when he saw her. She noticed his jaw tightening and his shoulders squaring, his whole demeanour becoming defensive.

`Nurse Crawley… please excuse me, I need to…´

She was having none of it. ´We need to talk,´ she told him calmly. ´And we will do so. Right now.´

He slumped a little, an dejected expression on his face. ´I am very sorry about what happened the other night… I grossly overstepped the mark and I deeply regret…´

´I don´t want your apologies,´ she cut in, not unkindly but very decisively. ´I want answers. What is that makes you react so strongly to me? Whether it is in apparent dislike or… passion?´ She blushed at the last word. She had had ample time to prepare this conversation in her head, practising what she would say a hundred times, but it still left her unprepared for the feeling that washed over her when she stood her, facing him. The effect he was having on her was unmistakable.

´Isobel…,´ he spoke her name with the same intensity, the same passion as he had two nights earlier. ´I cannot… I will not tell you.´ He ran his hand through his hair with a shaking hand, his rigidness shattering. ´I… I do not dislike you, please believe that. Whatever happened, however it appeared, it was because of me… never you.´

Taking a few steps closer to him she found herself almost desperate to know what was holding him back, to have him open up to her. Placing her hand on his arm she tried to hold his gaze, tried to read him.

He retrenched as if her touch burned him and she was dismayed by the haunted look in his blue eyes. ´Don´t… Isobel, let it rest. Don´t force me to reveal…´

´Is it really that bad?´ she asked incredulously.

´It is,´ he affirmed, breathing deeply. ´It is to me.´

After he had calmed himself somewhat he continued: ´I know I am unfair on you. I know how difficult I have made things for you… and I´ve found there´s only one remedy. I´ve telephoned the war office this morning, asking to be transferred. They couldn´t give me an immediate answer, but they gave me the impression something can be arranged. I´ll be leaving soon.´

The shock his words caused bereft her of her ability to speak for quite some time. She could only gape at him. ´You´ll be leaving? She eventually managed her voice hoarse.

´I will,´ he answered smiling sadly. ´It´s the only possible solution.´

Her head was a turmoil of anger, hurt and confusion. The anger manifested itself first. ´Leaving is the only solution - it is so unbearable for you to be around me?´ she said bitterly.

He closed his eyes and breathed heavily. ´You make it sound too harsh.´

All she heard what that he didn't contradict her. Apparently he really couldn´t stand her. ´Very well,´ she answered icily, matching the frosty tone he had used for months. ´If that´s the case then I´m probably the last person who can change your mind.´

She turned on her heels and stormed out of the office, walking in a furious pace to the guestroom that had unofficially became her room over the past few months and shut the door behind her with an almighty bang. Only then hot tears started to stream down her face.

* * *

><p>Still feeling flustered, and not a little frustrated about the almost-kiss she had Charles had shared – or hadn´t shared, depending how you looked on it, she thought wryly, Elsie made her way to her parlour to finish some correspondence and have a cup of tea before dinner. To her surprise she met Dr Clarkson in the hallway leading to her parlour.<p>

`Dr Clarkson, can I help you with anything?´ she asked politely. The man appeared rather flustered about being discovered in this part of the house. He looked almost guilty, Elsie mussed. She also couldn´t help but wondering why he was here – again. Surely there must be enough work for him at the hospital? Her suspicion that he came so often to see Isobel once again came to her mind.

´I… I was in search of Lord Grantham,´ he replied rather feebly.

Resisting the urge to frown at him, like she would have done to a member of her staff if she´d found them lying so obviously to her face, she replied drily: ´You will not find him here, sir. If you please, I´ll take you upstairs.´

Once she had delivered the misplaced physician at the library she went back to her parlour. Immediately upon entering she noticed the paper lying on the floor, as if it had been pushed under the door. Eagerly she picked it up and folded it open. The words caused her to laugh out loud and choke up at the same time.

_Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?  
>Thou art more lovely and more temperate:<br>Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,  
>And summer's lease hath all too short a date:<br>Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,  
>And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;<br>And every fair from fair sometime declines,  
>By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;<br>But thy eternal summer shall not fade  
>Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;<br>Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,  
>When in eternal lines to time thou growest:<br>So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,  
>So long lives this and this gives life to thee.<em>

_C. _

Ridiculously foolish, romantic, silly, lovable man! Just when she thought she could be more in love with him then she already was he did something that made her fall for him all over again. If only they hadn´t been interrupted that morning, if only they´d had a minute more… Enough! She decided. They´d danced around each other long enough. As much fun as it was, if the brief moments she´d spend in Charles´ arms this morning were any indication, the reward of acknowledging their feelings face to face would be far more rewarding. They needed to talk. And soon.

* * *

><p><em>AN: So I maintain it was either Mr Carson or Mrs Hughes who interupted Anna and Mr Bates almost-kiss is episode six... _


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11  
><strong>_October 1916_

October 15th – the day on which Matthew would be returning from France - finally arrived, leaving the house in a state of nervous anticipation. Sybil watched her father at the breakfast table. He was reading the morning the paper, but from the way his eyes flickered over the pages and the constant activity of his hands she could tell he was restless. After a few more bites of his toast and a sip of coffee, he got to his feet with some difficulty. His injuries from the ordeal at Downton hall had healed rather nicely. The wound on his temple had healed and the only visible reminder of it was a small, silvery scar. His legs took more time. Dr Wellington had explained to him that breaking a leg was in most cases far less painful then bruising them. And both of his upper legs had been severely bruised after being trapped underneath a heavy, wooden beam. His legs were still rather stiff and getting out of bed or getting out of chair still caused him considerable effort. Still, he maintained he was only grateful for his lucky escape. Given time there would be no lasting effects and he only had to walk into what once had been the drawing room and see the men that had return from oversees to know just how lucky he was.

´My dear,´ he told his youngest daughter. ´Would you be so kind to ask Dr Wellington and cousin Isobel if they have everything they require for Matthew´s home coming?´

´I will, papa,´ she answered him, smiling warmly. ´It will be wonderful to have him home, won´t it?´

Her father mirrored her smile and squeezed her hand for a moment. ´It will, my dear, it certainly will. Now I´ll go upstairs to see if his room is ready.´ Since Matthew was still injured and in need of medical care Robert and Isobel had agreed it would be best if Matthew stayed at the great house during his recovery, but in a private room. So eager to provide Matthew with all the comfort he would need, Cora and him and been overlooking the preparations of the room personally and hawk like.

Sybil shook her head fondly, watching him leave. She knew how deeply her father cared about Matthew Crawley. He was almost like a son to him and she knew how much he would have liked to be able to call him so. Finishing her breakfast, she made her way to the hospital ward where she found Dr Wellington and cousin Isobel going over supplies in absolute silence.

Sybil sighed inwardly. She´d never found out what had caused it, but since a few weeks ago the two of them seemed to have reversed their attitude towards each other. Isobel now treated Dr Wellington in a cold, indifferent manner, making it rather obvious she wanted to have as little as possible to do with him. He had reacted to her changed demeanour in a rather resigned , impassive manner. But the coldness in his own behaviour had disappeared. He no longer snapped at her, or told her of. He operated quietly around her, trying to be out of her way as much as possible. But sometimes Sybil caught him staring at her, his gaze wistful and sad. Sybil just found herself completely bewildered by it all.

When she entered the ward the temperature in atmosphere shot up considerable as Isobel gave her a warm smile.

´Are you excited Matthew is coming home?´ she asked.

Isobel smile widened nevertheless. ´Very much. I haven´t slept a wink tonight…´ Then her face turned serious. ´The anxiety these last two years has been unbearable sometimes… I´ve worried about him every second of the day. I´ll be so thankful to have him safely home with me.´

Once again Sybil was stuck with admiration by this strong woman, who, despite her own worries, had been such a pillar of strength and voice of reason in the midst of all the madness of the war. She talked about having worried every second of the day and yet she had always been so cheerful, so strong all this time. And now her son was returning, alive, but not unharmed.

´Do you think Matthew is still very much injured?' she asked quietly. To her surprise it was Wellington who answered. ´He is still recovering and very weak. He can walk, but needs crutches to support him, since his back isn´t strong enough. They have managed to remove the bullet, but some of his muscles were damaged. It will take a while before he´ll be able to walk on his own again.´ Upon seeing her surprised look he added in explanation: ´I wrote to a friend of mine who works as a doctor in Etaples and asked him for details of his medical condition.´

´That´s very kind of you!´ Sybil exclaimed, genuinely touched by consideration. She noticed cousin Isobel was looking steadfastly at her hands, her head bowed, remaining completely silent. Wellington became quiet as well, looking a little crestfallen.

´Papa wanted to know if everything was ready for his return, but I dare say it is,´ she said brightly, trying to erase some of the tension. Thankfully Isobel managed to exert herself enough to reply.

´Everything is ready, dear,´ she answered, ´only… I have one request…´

´What is it?´ Sybil implored curiously.

´Please ask your father not to arrange a big reception, with all the family outside and the servants lining up. Just your parents and you and me will be quite enough for him I imagine.´

Realizing for the first time that the Matthew who would arrive in a few hours might be a completely different person from the man who left two years ago – smartly looking in his uniform, Sybil nodded. ´I´ll tell him, I´m sure he´ll understand.`

Isobel simply nodded gratefully.

* * *

><p>In the end it was just the four of them standing on the windy driveway in front of the house with Carson just behind the door. Robert had his arm around Cora´s shoulder for support, but at the same time she was clutching his other hand tightly for strength herself. Isobel stood still, a smile on her face, but Sybil noticed her hands twisting nervously. Finally they could hear a car approaching around the house and moments later it drove up, coming to stand in front of them. One of the lorry drivers – they always asked lorry drivers to act as chauffeur these days – got out and opened the door of the backseat. First a crutch appeared, then another. Then a leg, clad in a brown wool uniform. Finally his arms and head came and with great difficulty and effort he stood, leaning heavily on the crutches, unsteady in the gravel of the driveway.<p>

Sybil could hear Isobel choke back a sob and swallowing hardly before she squared her shoulders and walked to her son, her arms outstretched. Standing on the tip of her toes she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him close.

She could hear her mother cry softly against her father´s shoulder but she could only watch and take in Matthew´s appearance. He was thin. The uniform hung on his body like sack. He was clean-shaven, but his hair was short, practically close-cropped. It made the bones and lines of his face stand out more. There were many new lines. In fact he looked years older. There had been a ghost of a smile on his face when he had embraced his mother, but soon his face retreated into its earlier, composed expression. Over his mother´s shoulder he looked at them and their eyes met briefly.

His eyes seemed larger, darker. They seem to fill his face, until he looked like nothing more than two haunted, deep pools of pain. Sybil suddenly felt chilled. And incredibly stupid and naïve. They had been so excited about his home-coming. So worried about his physical injuries and whether or not he would recover from them. But his crutches and laboured movements seemed minor in comparison to his ruined gaze.

Her parents now walked towards him to greet him. There were more hugs and kisses, handshakes, some tears and careful pats on backs. She still stood there motionless. The last time she´d seen him seemed a different life ago. She had been so young then, so naïve. Lady Sybil. The youngest sister, the girl. She´d seen and cared for countless wounded soldiers. She hadn´t flinched at their injuries and pains. She´d managed to comfort them, even give them some hope again sometimes. But to them she had always been nurse Crawley. Looking at Matthew she could only feel like Sybil. She could only feel like twenty. She could only feel like this war was too cruel, too harsh and took too much of everything she loved.

Eventually her limbs started to function again and she willed herself to step forward as well, forcing a smile on her face.

´Hello Matthew,´ she wondered whether or not to hug him, but settled for shaking his hand instead, trying to keep her voice light. ´It´s good to have you back with us.´

´It´s good to be back, Sybil,´ the corners of his mouth lifted, but his eyes remained expressionless. Even his voice sounded altered. More hallow, more empty.

´Let´s go in and have tea,´ her mother said in a painfully forced cheerful voice. ´I´m sure you could do with some.´

* * *

><p>Isobel willed herself to be happy. There wasn´t any reason why she shouldn´t be happy after all. Her son was home. He was safe and whatever injuries he had, they would heal with the right treatment and some therapy.<p>

Physically he was improving every day. Wellington treated him every day and helped him through a series of exercises that gradually made the muscles in his back stronger. He only need one crutch for support these days. He was getting better every day and it won´t be long before he would be completely healed.

So why did she feel so anxious, so worried? Why did she feel the bottom drop out of her stomach every time she looked at her boy? Why couldn´t she sleep and why did she lay awake at night, tossing and turning in troubled concern? As the weeks dragged on she couldn´t shake of the nagging suspicion that something was wrong, very wrong indeed.

* * *

><p>A consistent cloud of anger seemed to surround him these days. He became more and more withdrawn in himself. He spend a few hours every morning with Dr Wellington, doing his exercises, but after that he asked to be left alone, spending a lot of time in his room or at the teahouse at the back of the garden. The chilly weather or the heavy rainfall didn´t seem to bother him. He didn´t allow anyone near him. Not his mother, not Lord Grantham, not any of the soldiers who attempted to try and talk to him. And he only appeared at his sessions with Wellington because the latter was wise enough not to ask question and purely focused his attention on his physical recovery.<p>

Sybil felt she was the last person in the world he would talk to, the last person who would be able to get him out of his self-imposed shell. So she was rather apprehensive as she knocked on the glass door of the teahouse. When she didn´t hear a sound coming from within she carefully pushed open the door. He was sitting near the floor length window, staring out over the grounds.

´Matthew?´ she asked tentatively.

He barely acknowledge her presence, only continued to stare morosely out of the window. She had noticed over the week how his mood had become more depressed, more bitter.

´We´re having tea in the library. Mama asks if you would care to join us.´

´I´m not in the mood,´ he replied surly.

´It´s just your mother, mama and me,´ she pressed on. ´You won´t have to say a thing, we´ll do all the talking if you like.´ The attempt at lightness, at a little humour fell death on the floor as she saw his annoyed expression.

´I´m not in the mood,´ he repeated.

Somehow she felt very reluctant to leave him here, alone, pry to his dark thoughts and feelings. Against her better judgement she tried again. ´Please Matthew, perhaps some diversion would do you good,´ she pleaded softly.

´What part of my refusal didn´t you get?´ he snapped angrily. Slightly taken aback by his outburst she couldn´t immediately come up with something to say in return.

´I said I didn´t want to be disturbed.´ he lashed out again. ´Now kindly leave alone!´

She tried not to be hurt by the venomous tone of his voice. Tried to reason with herself that he was just hurt, just recovering from a terrible ordeal. But the truth was his words stung. They stung badly.

´Very well, ´ she managed, inwardly amazed at the fact that her voice could still sound even and calm. ´I´ll leave you alone if that´s what you wish.´

He never acknowledge her words, never showed any indication that he noticed her leave. She walked back with her eyes burning and had to steady herself before she entered the library. Isobel´s face fell when she saw her entering alone, it was unmistakable.

`Didn´t he want to join us?´ Cora asked gently.

Sybil shook her head, deciding that her mother or cousin didn´t need any more grief then they were already experiencing.

´No, he asked to be excused. He was busy with something, ´ she lied, never blinking once.

* * *

><p>And so it had come to this, Timothy Wellington thought sadly as he entered the ward where Isobel was busy filling out the ward´s journal. She barely acknowledged his presence, just kept on scribbling furiously. After many months of keeping her at arms´ length, of keeping his distance he finally had her at a point where she kept herself from him, avoided him as much as possible. And of course now he found that he couldn´t do without her presence, without her warmth and friendliness. This icy, guarded Isobel was so far a cry from the woman he knew that it hurt him to know he was the cause of it. And the more she moved away from him, the more he felt inclined to reach out, to draw her back to him. It was pure torture and a torture he was bound to endure for at least two more months. The war office had let him know that it wouldn´t be until December before they could offer him a new post.<p>

He observed her closely. She looked pale and worn- out. He´d seen her tired before . He´d seen her after she´d worked straight through a twenty-hour shift when she was so tired she could barely see clear anymore. But this was a different sort of tired. It wasn´t physical, it was emotional. She was strained, exhausted to the core of her being and he had a rather good feeling what was the cause of it.

´How´s Matthew?´ he inquired softly.

She finally looked at him and he was shocked to see her pale complexion and the dark circles underneath her eyes.

´You see him every day… you should know,´ she said flatly.

´I see his body improving every day,´ he corrected her gently. ´But his mind is a different matter altogether. So I ask you, how is he doing?´

´He´s getting worse every day,´ Isobel replied, her gaze flickering over his face and then looking down again. ´Sometimes I wonder if he has really come home at all. He´s so changed, so… broken…´ she sobbed and then cleared her throat furiously. ´I´m sorry…´ How? She wondered in silent aggravation, How did this man always managed to get behind her defences with a just a few words?

He crossed the distance between them, but although his entire being screamed to do so, he refrained from touching her. ´You´re his mother. If anyone has any right to be hurting because he´s hurting it´s you.´

She looked up at him and he was struck by the look of desperation in her eyes. ´He won´t let me help him! There´s nothing I can do to ease him and his pain gets worse and worse every single day.´

´He´s out of the war, but the war is still very much inside him.´ he told her softly. ´It still rages inside his head. He needs time.´

´It´s just…´ Isobel´s voice was hoarse with unshed tears. ´It´s like he´s falling and he´s falling deeper… I´m afraid for him.´

´What are you afraid of?´ he asked gently, suddenly catching the strain in her voice.

She couldn´t meet his eyes as she told him, watched the top buttons of his shirt instead. ´Yesterday, when he was working with you I cleaned out the teahouse where he seems to spend all his time lately… he doesn´t let me do anything else for him, so I thought I could at least make him comfortable there… but I found… there were… I found three empty whiskey bottles starched in a cupboard.´

His face fell at her words and the gravity of the situation hit him. ´I confess, I didn´t suspect he was that far gone,´ he told her softly. ´This is rather serious.´

´I´m scared,´ she told him honestly. ´And I don´t know what to do anymore.´

´Well,´ he defied his rational side and reached out to held her hand. ´You´re not alone and neither is Matthew. You are surrounded by people who will do anything to help you.´ he gave a little half-smile. ´And that includes me.´

She searched his gaze for a moment and nodded slightly. Not quite warming towards him yet, but not turning away from him either. ´I appreciate it.´ she answered quietly.

* * *

><p>These days the servants' hall was practically deserted during the evening, but Anna found she didn´t mind. For it meant that she and John could spend most evenings together in relative privacy. She would have her mending, he would have some chore or other to finish or read the paper. It was almost domestic. But that evening she eyed him closely over Lady Sybil´s blouse. Something was bothering him.<p>

´What´s troubling you?´ she asked softly.

He looked up in surprise from the paper he hadn´t been reading.

´How do you know?´ he asked incredulously.

She smiled to herself. ´You were biting the inside of your cheek. You only do that when something is bothering you.´

The soft, tender smile that was reserved for her alone lighted his eyes and for a moment they just gazed at each other.

´So, what is it?´ she asked eventually.

He frowned, but leaned in closer, eager to discuss this with her. `His Lordship is worried about Mr Crawley. He´s… troubled, and it seems to be worsening. And there´s also… Mrs Crawley found empty whiskey bottles in the teahouse.´

Instantly Anna was filled with sympathy. ´Poor man… he must be hurting so much.´

´He is,´ John confirmed. ´But he is also hurting himself more in the process.´

´Did Lord Grantham tell you all this?´ Anna asked.

He nodded. ´Apparently Dr Wellington is very concerned about his condition. And about the effect it´s having on Mrs Crawley.´

Anna frowned in wonder about that. ´There´s an odd thing…´ she said slowly. ´He´s worried about her, but he´s also been uncivil to her from the moment he walked in the house. I cannot make that man out.´

´He´s in love with her.´ John replied matter-of-factly.

Anna´s eyes widened in surprise at that. ´Do you really think so?

He nodded knowingly. ´I recognise the signs. At the one hand he´s pushing her away, but at the same he´s doing everything to help her and to keep her close. You should see how he looks when he talks about her.´ Wryly he added, ´believe me, I´ve been there, I should know.´

They smiled at each other, a thousand memories passing between them in one glance.

´Well, if you say so…´ Anna answered softly. ´Then I hope he´ll sort himself soon. But Lord Grantham told you about his worries about Mr Crawley.´

´Yes,´ John said, returning to their earlier subject. ´He told me this evening. He knows of course how I dealt with the war… or rather didn´t… and asked if I knew of anything that could help him.´

´Well, you did deal with it eventually,´ Anna said rather firmly. ´What was is that made it turn around for you?´

´Apart from you?´ he asked fondly, not wanting to resist the opportunity.

´Yes,´ she replied only slightly exasperated.

His face sobered somewhat. ´When I was in prison there was a priest there… Father Ignatius… It was one of the few rights we had in there, being able to see a priest when we needed one. He helped me through most of the anger, most of the hurt.´

´Is there anything Father Ignatius did for you that you can do for Mr Crawley?´ Anna asked quietly. And suddenly she understood what he had been so troubled about. His answer confirmed her thoughts.

´There is. But it wasn´t easy on me. And it won´t be easy on Mr Crawley.´

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for all the reviews so far!<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12  
><strong>_November 1916_

The family had been entertaining guests for a week and Elsie had had barely a minute to herself, let alone time to talk with Charles. She found that she missed him. She missed talking to him, she missed the quiet evenings in her parlour or his pantry, she missed spending five minutes with him without someone interrupting them. So she was very glad when the week was over and she could say goodbye to their guest and their staff. Making her way downstairs she looked forward to the first time in about nine days when she could sit down on her settee with a cup of tea. She needed to think about a way to tell Charles. It was long overdue.

'Mrs Hughes, may I have a word?'

Looking up, startled, she found Dr Clarkson standing in hallway. She stared at him with a look of surprise, tinged with a bit of annoyance.

'Do you wish to speak with his Lordship?' she asked, remembering the last time she found him here.

'No... no no…,' he chuckled nervously. 'It's you I've come to speak with. 'Is there somewhere we can talk a bit more… privately?'

Her surprise gave way to bewilderment, which increased when she took in his attire. He looked a little overdressed. There was a flower in his breast pocket and his moustache looked rather styled.

'We could step into my parlour,' she offered hesitantly.

'Marvellous,' Dr Clarkson cried happily. 'Your parlour would do brilliantly.'

Taken aback slightly by his enthusiasm she lead him towards her parlour. As she passed him a wave of cologne washed over her, almost stifling her. Once he stepped into the parlour the room was soon oozing with the smell. She wondered briefly if it would be very impolite if she left the door open.

Deciding that it would, she closed the door with a sigh, hoping that whatever he wanted to talk about would be over soon. When she turned around she found Dr Clarkson standing right behind her, his face slightly flushed and holding out the flower from his breast pocket to her.

Her bewilderment now quickly turned into alarm. 'Dr Clarkson!' she exclaimed. 'What is the meaning of this?'

'For weeks I have hoped,' he declared passionately. 'And every day my hope increased, for you accepted my attentions, the expressions of my heart!'

'The expressions of your…' she repeated falteringly. 'What do you mean?'

'The sonnets, the flowers, the chocolates,' he waved his hands erratically. 'I know you've received them. You must know now how much I admire you- love you!'

When he reached out and took hold of her hand, her senses somewhat kicked back into working order. A horrible suspicion formed in her mind, almost knocking the breath out of her. _C_…. 'The sonnets came from you?' she whispered shakily, feeling as if the rug had been pulled away from under her feet.

'Of course they did,' he answered, still smiling madly. 'I'm so glad you return my feelings, dearest Elsie.'

That certainly managed to bring her voice back. Pulling her hand back she told him in as calm a voice she could muster: 'Dr Clarkson, I'm afraid you're jumping to conclusions… I have given you no indication that I return your feelings…'

But you've accepted my all my declarations over the past weeks,' he insisted, looking a little shocked himself now. 'Why would you do that if you have no intentions of returning them?'

'Because I didn't know they came from you!' she answered, hearing her voice turning into a high pitch. Calming herself she continued in a lower voice. 'I'm terribly sorry Dr Clarkson. I had absolutely no intention of stringing you on, but I did not know the attentions came from you.'

'Who did you think they came from then?' he replied bitterly. 'I thought it was obvious enough who the sender was.'

Not wanting to add to his misery by blurting out to him that she thought she'd actually been courted by Charles Carson all that time, she frantically thought of a way to cushion the blow for him. 'I thought it was someone's idea of a joke,' she said eventually.

He looked heartbroken at her words and she regretted them instantly. 'A joke,' he repeated miserably. 'I try to tell you that I love you and you think it's a joke?'

'Not your feelings,' she assured him quickly. 'I just… haven't been courted in a long time… I didn't believe it was serious.'

'Well, I am serious,' he told her earnestly. 'My affections are serious. Can you give me any hope?'

She honestly felt sorry for him, but she thought it would be best to be cruel to be kind to him. 'I'm very sorry, Dr Clarkson,' she told him kindly, but very firmly. 'My affections have been engaged elsewhere for a long time… I feel very flattered by your declarations, but I cannot return them.'

He looked thoroughly dejected but nodded quietly. 'Well then… I have tried… no one can accuse me of not trying. He looked uncomfortably around the room, obviously trying to find something to say, but not succeding. ´Well... you seem to very certain...´

´I am,´ she told him gently.

He nodded, his eyes briefly glancing her face. She could sene his akwkardness. ´I'll better leave then… Goodbye Mrs Hughes.'

She bit back the urge to apologize to him again and watched him walk out of her parlour. Once he had gone she sunk down on her settee, her thoughts a complete turmoil.

How had she ended up in this mess? She wondered miserably. How could she have missed the fact that it was Clarkson who was pursuing her? Many little things now clicked into place. The reason he'd been by almost every day, the reason why he had often loitered in the servants' hall… and she had been completely obvious to it all. How could she not have seen it was Clarkson all along?

_Because you wanted it to be Charles._ The thought entered her mind calmly, assured of its truth. For fifteen years it had been Charles. She hadn't want anyone else. Not Joe Burns, not Dr Clarkson, just Charles. And even the slightest indication that he was still interested in her could send her heart racing and make her forget her common sense.

Suddenly she groaned in horror as she remembered all too clearly actually how much she had forgot her common sense in the last few weeks. She'd thought Charles was pursuing her, but in fact she had been pursuing him relentlessly these passed weeks. Images of recent events flashed before her eyes and she felt face turning scarlet. She'd been all over him… touching him, teasing him, flirting with him… practically seducing him. The poor man probably never knew what hit him. And he'd been a gentleman all that time – but what would he think of her? Her mortification now complete she buried her face in her hands.

'Elsie… Elsie, are you alright? An alarmed voice broke through her misery and when she looked up she found Isobel standing on the threshold, looking extremely worried. 'The door was open and you looked rather upset..'

She gestured helplessly, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. 'You'd better shut that door.'

'Just a second,' Isobel told her reassuringly. She walked away but returned within a few minutes carrying a teapot. She closed the door securely behind her and poured two cups.

'Spill it,' she told her, sitting down on the armchair across the settee.

'Well…' Elsie nervously stirred her tea, unsure where to begin. 'It started a few weeks ago. I received a poem – a sonnet actually. After that more followed, I received something almost every day. A sonnet, or flowers… they all appeared in my parlour and all of the sonnets were signed with _C_, so I assumed…'

Isobel's eyes grew wide. 'It was Charles renewing his addresses to you!' she said excitedly.

Slightly comforted by the fact that her friend jumped to the same conclusions she'd had, Elsie nodded. 'That's what I thought too. And to be honest, Isobel…' Elsie shut her eyes tightly for a moment, forcing back the tears that threatened again. 'I was so happy…' she continued in a soft voice. 'I thought I'd been given a second chance. Just the thought that he was still interested, still had feelings for me… I was over the moon!'

'So what happened?' Isobel asked gently.

'This afternoon Dr Clarkson declared his love for me,' Elsie answered, still sounding incredulous. 'It was him who'd been courting me all these weeks.'

'Dr Clarkson!' Isobel exclaimed flabbergasted. 'But the initials… oh!' suddenly comprehension dawned on her face. '_C_… Clarkson, he used his last name!' Reaching out she squeezed her hand. 'I'm so sorry, Elsie. No wonder you're upset.'

'Well, it actually gets worse,' Elsie told her, feeling herself blushing once more. 'I was very sure it was Charles… and I wanted to make sure that this time there would be no mistake that I was interested as well… so I've made my interest in him rather obvious these past weeks.'

Upon seeing Isobel's shocked expression she cried out: 'I've been all over him for weeks! Taking every opportunity to touch him, to flirt with him, to imply… goodness what must he think of me! He must think I've gone completely mad.'

'Did he show any displeasure at your actions?' Isobel asked carefully.

'No, not really,' Elsie answered somewhat reluctantly. 'But then again, he can be rather unreadable at times. He can hide his emotions well if he wants to.'

'I'm familiar with the type,' Isobel grumbled softly.

'Still no change there?' Elsie asked sympathetically, momentarily forgetting her own sorrows.

Isobel frowned and shook her head. 'No, not at all. Although now he is behaving civilly to me at least. But he's still leaving the moment he gets the chance – that keen to be away from me, he is.' She looked thoughtfully at Elsie. 'You know, perhaps this isn't so bad… at least Charles now knows how you feel about him.'

Remembering with painful clarity how for instance she had leaned into him during their moment at the cupboard, storing away the tea, her mortification returned full force and she shook her head fiercely.

'It is bad Isobel… I practically pounced on him at one point… he must be disgusted with me! There's a word for women who behave in the way that I did!'

Isobel choked and clamped her hands over her mouth. But it was to no avail. She broke down in laughter – the first good laugh she had in weeks and wryly Elsie joined in. It took a couple of minutes before either of them calmed down as simply looking at each other could set them off again. Finally Isobel wiped the tears from her eyes.

'Goodness Elsie, I don't think anyone would ever call you that! Let alone Charles.'

'I certainly hope so,' Elsie replied, slightly breathless. 'How did we end up in this mess?' Sobering somewhat she asked: 'So Dr Wellington is still leaving then?'

Isobel nodded. 'He received word from the army office the day before yesterday. He will be transferred to London somewhere between Christmas and new year's.'

'And how do you feel about that?' Although really, the hurt expression on Isobel's face was answer enough, Elsie reasoned.

'I try not to feel too much,' Isobel confessed. 'I'm not in love with him, Elsie. I know it appears that way, but I'm not… I don't want to be. I can't love someone who isn't open with me.' She paused for a moment, considering her next words.

'I know you're embarrassed and I can completely understand that you are. But at least you've been open with him, as he has been with you fifteen years ago. At least you know where you stand.' Comfortingly she added: 'And the two of you have such a strong friendship, it certainly can handle a little misunderstanding.'

Elsie dried her eyes and tried a calm smile. 'You're right… of course you are. Thank you for putting things in perspective.'

Isobel finished her tea and got to her feet. 'I'd better be going back. He's been civil to me, but I'd rather not push my luck. Will you be alright?'

'Of course I will,' Elsie reassured her, making her way to the door. 'For now I'll just leave Charles be… the poor man probably could do with some peace.'

At that precise moment poor Charles appeared at the doorway, taking in Elsie's still slightly dishevelled appearance. Tongue-tied, Elsie completely fell silent. 'Mrs Hughes, her Ladyship is asking for you…' he started, but quickly changed his tone. '…Elsie, are you alright?'

Digging some resembles of confidence out of her toes Elsie replied in a surprisingly even voice: 'I'm fine, Charles, honestly. I just had a rather… startling discovery. I'll go and see her Ladyship directly.'

Charles watched her walk away with a worried crease on his face. 'Is she alright, Mrs Crawley?' he asked, never quite taking his eyes of her.

'She will be,' Isobel replied cheerfully. 'Although you might want to keep an eye out for her, Mr Carson.'

Grinning to herself, she made her way back to the ward.

* * *

><p>'Keep an eye out for her, Mr Carson.' That was easier said than done when the person of your scrutiny was going out of her way to avoid you at all costs, Charles fumed inwardly as he was left staring after the retreating form of his housekeeper. Again. These days all he got to see of her was her back. And it wasn't that he liked her back, it was as perfect as everything else about her was. But he absolutely loathed implication it held: she was moving away from him.<p>

He was at a loss at what had caused her sudden aloofness from him this past week. Especially after she'd appear rather… affectionate a few weeks earlier. Which left him even more bewildered. The last two months had been very confusing and he was no were near a solution as to why.

His trusted friend had turned into a… he'd say vixen, if the subject hadn't been Elsie Hughes. Still, surprising as it was, it seemed the only word fit to describe her behaviour towards him. All of a sudden he had found himself to be the willing recipient of her smiles, touches and gentle teasing. He remembered a particular occasion, only a few weeks ago in his pantry.

_It had been an extremely long day. With Downton harbouring guests and additional servants__**,**__ the evenings were filled with buzz and activity. He'd up until two 'clock at night, serving drinks and attending to the gentleman. The honourable Mr Covington and his friends had been without valet as they'd arrived at Downton. It was the same case as it was in many aristocratic families. Male members of staff had resigned to fight overse__a__s. Between Mr Bates and himself they had divided the valeting duties and so it was at this late hour that he finally came down to his pantry, feeling completely exhausted._

_To his surprise the soft light of a single candle was shining from the kitchen. His surprise increased when he found Elsie sitting at the table of the servants hall, engrossed in a book. She was still in her dress and appeared fresh and awake as if it was two 'o clock in the afternoon instead of two o'clock at night._

'_Elsie!' he asked softly, not even having enough energy to raise his voice any louder. 'What are you doing still up?'_

_She looked up and smiled at him. 'Hello Charles, they've certainly kept you busy.'_

_He nodded wearily, passing his hand over his eyes. 'That they have. I'm floored to be honest. I think my old age is finally catching up on me.'_

'_Less of the old, please,' she chided him gently. 'Any one of us would be floored if they'd been up and about until two 'o clock.'_

'_You yourself look rather alert for this time of night though,' he observed._

_She grinned at that. 'I've been dozing on and off for two hours until I finally drifted off,' she confessed. 'Such a short nap can be very refreshing.' Standing up her manner became brisk and authoritarian , making him almost feel like one of the houseboys. 'Well, go to your pantry and get comfortable. I'll be joining you shortly.'_

_Too tired to put up a fight he just did as she bid. Get comfortable, she had told him. He wondered just how comfortable he could get. Eventually he settled for taking of his jacket and loosening his tie somewhat. _

_Minutes later__,__ she indeed joined him in his pantry, carrying a glass of warm milk._

'_You certainly know how to stop me from feeling old,' he teased gently. 'I haven't had warm milk since I was six years old.'_

'_Well, I don't want you lying in your bed unable to sleep because you're too tired to,' she told him. 'Warm milk will help you fall asleep quicker.'_

'_Thank you, Elsie,' he said gratefully, taking the milk from her. Sitting down heavily at the chair behind his desk he sipped the warm carefully, memories from his childhood flooding him. Absent-mindedly he rubbed his neck where some of tension appeared to have stored itself. She moved around his desk, coming to stand behind him and placing her hands on his shoulders. He gasped a little at her sudden touch, but it quickly turned into an appreciative groan as her hands started to massage the tight spots._

'_That feels nice,' he sighed, leaning back and relaxing under her kneading fingers._

'_Where does it hurt?' she asked softly._

'_My neck,' he replied drowsily, indicating the particularly tense area._

_She applied her hands there, using her thumbs to smooth the knots away, her fingers gently digging into his skin._

_Suddenly all thoughts of tiredness or relaxation evaporated as her hands made contact with his bare skin. He could feel his body temperature shot up and was sure she could see the perspiration that suddenly seemed to form on his forehead._

'_Elsie…' he started huskily._

'_Do you know you´ve got knots in your knots?' her voice sounded far too soft and that Scottish accent of hers that drove him almost mad at any other time now nearly became his undoing._

_He had always prided himself on his self-control, but every man had his limit. And when it came to her he reached that limit rather quickly._

'_Elsie… please!' there was a definite note of panic in his voice. Getting to his feet quickly he turned around to face her, instantly feeling the loss of her hands on him. 'I feel so much better now,' he continued in a more collect voice. 'Thank you very much.'_

_She smiled at him and he found he couldn't very well read her look. 'It was my pleasure Charles, don't forget to finish your milk.'_

_She moved away from him lightly and once she had gone he found his hands trembling. Despite her best efforts, he didn't sleep a wink that night._

But that had been four weeks ago. There had been many more occasions like that. There had been the time at the cupboards when they had almost kissed… he felt he still resented Anna somewhat for interrupting them. He had enjoyed her frankness beyond words and had slowly allowed himself to hope that perhaps there would be a way for them to be more to each other than just a housekeeper to a butler. Could she ever love him? He had entertained the thought frequently over the past weeks, feeling his hope rise with every time she smiled at him or touched him. He had hesitated for a long time, not daring to believe what he saw, but unable to move away from it. Unable not to relish in it. Perhaps he had hesitated too long. Because about a week after their almost-kiss, after he had finally resolved to act upon his long shimmering feelings for her, her behaviour had changed like a leaf on a tree.

From one day to another she'd began to avoid him and for the life of him he couldn't figure out why. She didn't appear cross or angry about anything and he couldn't remember anything he may have said or done to make her so. She almost seemed... embarrassed. She was unable to meet his eyes and during the few occasions that they had been forced to talk to each other he had detected a slight blush on her face. After their talk she would hurry away from him. She hadn't come near him on her own account for over a week now. He wondered about her withdrawal and worried about it. And above all, he found that he missed her very much.

* * *

><p><strong>As always, thank you for reading!<strong>


	13. Chapter 13

_A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! I´m just very curious now, what does SUTH means?  
>I can´t believe I´m already on chapter 13 with this.. Just a little warning for this chapter: for dramatic purposes the intervention to help Matthew works out well, but it is by no means Psychology textbook... so don´t try this at home! <em>

**Chapter 13  
><strong>_November 1916_

They had entertained hope that Matthew´s spirits would rally of their own accord. That he somehow would manage to scrape himself together and return to them in mind as well as in body. But after six weeks had passed it became apparent that if anything, he was only moving further away from them. Physically he was almost back to normal, Wellington´s therapy had done wonders for him. But he had become almost a recluse. He didn´t tolerate anyone around him anymore and viciously snapped at anyone who dared to disturb his solitude. The fact that nothing short of an alcohol ban had been proclaimed at Downton didn't help either. Now that it was practically impossible for him to obtain alcohol to ease his suffering somewhat, he very much appeared like a caged animal most of the time.

When they couldn´t put it off any longer they decided to takeaction. Relating some of experiences with father Ignatius to Lord Grantham , John explained to him what he planned to do. He was anxious to do it – constantly wondering if it was the right approach, if the cure wouldn´t cause more damage than the problem and if he was the right person to carry it out. He spend long hours debating his worries with Anna.

´It´s risky… Father Ignatius had ample experience in dealing with this kind of problem, I don´t,´ he told her one evening as the two of them were sitting at the table in the once again deserted servants' hall.

´You have all the experience of having gone through it´, Anna consoled him. ´You more than anyone else can relate to what he will be experiencing.´

´But still, it could turn out all wrong and it could lead to him retreating even further into himself. There is no way of knowing if it will end well and that´s what worries me.´

´You´ll never know for sure it will work out for the best,´ Anna admitted. ´But we can know this: if no-one does anything, he will certainly get worse. Unless you think he´ll just needs time to sort this out himself.´

´That´s just it, he´s not sorting it out,´ John explained. ´He is hiding from it. It´s all he thinks about, it consumes his thoughts, but at the same time he is avoiding dealing with it. And slowly his mind is getting further and further away from the solution.´ He paused for a second, trying to explain it more clearly. ´I´ve told you about South Africa. Well, I`ve thought about that mother and her child for months and months. In the end I literally thought of nothing else. But in all that time I never dealt with it. The more I thought about it, the bigger it became. Eventually Father Ignatius broke that pattern. He broke through that shell of thoughts I´d created and dragged me to the emotions of the ordeal. But it wasn´t pretty.´

* * *

><p>Eventually they decided to go through with it. Before they did, John explained to Isobel what he was about to do, telling her some things of his past war experience and the aftermath of it. Isobel paled when she heard of the plan, but agreed it was the best, if not only chance they had at the moment of getting through to Matthew.<p>

´His Lordship and I will go to the teahouse,´ John told her, ´and Anna will stay with you outside.

´Whatever happens, do not come in, until I tell you to. You have to trust me in this!´

´I promise,´ Isobel´s voice may have sounded soft, but her eyes held a courageous glint. ´I have every faith in you, Mr Bates.´

The four of them made their way to the teahouse. It was a dark, gloomy day. The grounds were already frozen and the many clouds gathering above them indicated it won´t be long before the first snow would be falling. Wrapped up in winter coats, gloves and scarfs, Anna and Isobel sat down on the stone bench about five yards away from the teahouse. They watched as Lord Grantham and John entered. Isobel nervously folded her hands in her lap, gazing intently at the glass windows of the teahouse.

The two men had now entered the teahouse. She could see John talking to Matthew, unable to make out what he said, but noticing how stern his face was. It didn´t take long before Matthew was roused out of the lethargic state he was in. He got up and started to move around. Even though he could walk without crutches now, his movements were still unsteady.

John was still talking to Matthew. There was a certain aggression in the way he spoke, even though she still couldn´t hear a word. He seemed to be verbally attacking Matthew and judging from Matthew´s increasing movements, what he was saying certainly had an effect. The hands in her lap tightened and she felt Anna put her arm around her in comfort. ´He knows what he´s doing,´ she reassured her. ´He´s been through it.´

´I know,´ Isobel replied, putting up a brave smile. ´I know he is.´

Suddenly the voices inside the teahouse rose and could be understood from where they sat.

´Just shut up!´ Matthew roared. ´You have no idea what it was like! Thousands of men died there. Their corpses just lay there rotting in the mud. Don´t try and understand what I´ve been through!´

´So you want to turn this into a game of who suffered the most,´ John retorted sharply and loudly to match Matthew´s screaming. What he said next was in a much softer voice, unable for the two woman to hear.

´Oh God…´ Isobel whispered hoarsely. ´He´s right… we have no idea what he´s been through.´

´We don´t, but they do,´ Anna said softly. ´And they can help him overcome it.´

Robert was now talking in a much calmer, gentler manner then John it seemed. Matthew appeared somewhat calmer, but then John took his turn again. As Anna watched him it occurred to him that he almost looked like a predator, ready for the kill. He had Matthew completely cornered and was now relentlessly pushing against his defences, working furiously to get through that shell.

She remembered something his mother had told her a long time ago. ´_He was a bit hard at times, with a tongue like a razor_.´ She could imagine that so clearly now. And she understood better why he had been so reluctant at first to take up this task. After all he had sworn to himself never to be that man again. She hadn´t known him any different than being a gentle man, with enormous self-control. If she was honest, seeing him like this frightened her somewhat. And she realised suddenly that he was probably just as weary of this side of him.

As the time passed it became clear Matthew wasn´t up to the joined attack against him. His entire demeanour became defensive, but still he refused to relent. Every now and then his voice could be heard coming from the teahouse. `Can´t you just bloody well leave me alone?´ he bellowed at one point. ´Just get out! Get out of here!´

It was almost more than Isobel could bear. An irrational part of her wanted just to run in there and stop them from torturing her son any further.

Soft footsteps approached and when she looked up she looked straight in the concerned eyes of Timothy Wellington.

`How is it going in there?´ he asked softly.

Unable to make a reply, Isobel looked down at her hands again. She´d plucked a hole in the wool of her glove and was now steadily increasing it by pulling at the ratted ends.

Anna answered for her instead. ´They´ve been in there for almost an hour now. There´s been some shouting and a lot of talking, but nothing has happened so far.´

Wellington watched the scene for a moment, before he commented: ´He´s putting up quite a resistance.´ At the same moment they could see Matthew lifting a chair and throwing it against the wall, leaving the windows of the teahouse shattering.

Isobel shuddered. ´I want to get him out of there,´ her entire face betrayed the pain she was feeling for her son´s sake. ´Hasn´t he been through enough?´

She didn´t even protest anymore when Wellington took both her hands in his, rubbing them warm between his own. ´You know they´re not fighting against your son, they´re fighting for him. It won´t be long now… they´re trying to push behind his walls to get through his emotions. Anger is almost always the first emotion to appear. It´s easier to feel angry then to allow yourself to feel pain… that he just threw a chair indicates that he is close.´

Just then they could see Matthew reach his breaking point. John was talking to him, a fierce, unyielding look on his face and all of a sudden Matthew lashed out. His fist hit John square in his eye and he staggered backwards, losing his balance and falling to the ground.

´John!´ Anna exclaimed in horror, close herself now to getting up and running into the teahouse. This time it was Isobel who grabbed her and hold her. Wellington had sat down on Isobel´s other side and the three of them watched intently and with close attention as John scrambled back to his feet instantly, never taking his eyes off Matthew and continued to talk, bringing down the last barrier.

Anna noticed, although it didn´t fully register with her at the moment – too caught up she was in what was happening between John and Matthew, that Isobel seemed to lean in to the man sitting next to her. He in turn was sitting close to her, not so close they were actually touching, but there was an air of protectiveness about him.

A lot of the fight seemed to have left him, but Matthew was still talking, still arguing. Robert said something to him and he shook his head furiously. Then John spoke again, the persistent expression still on his face. For a moment it looked like Matthew would strike him again. He had already lifted his arm to do so when suddenly he seemed to collapse. He doubled up, grasping his stomach as if it was hurting him greatly and sank to the floor, his scream of agony tearing through the air.

Isobel was already on her feet when John looked through the window and nodded for her to come in. She ran to the teahouse, her feet barely touching the ground, dashed through the glass door and knelt next to her son, gathering him in her arms as he finally cried, disclosing the terror he´d suffered through in the past two years.

Robert and John emerged from the teahouse. Anna was at their side instantly, looking worried at John. His eye was already turning a nasty shade of purple and he looked thoroughly exhausted.

´Thank God that is over,´ Robert said, looking haggard.

Wellington followed close behind Anna. ´I need to take a look at that eye,´ he said in his characteristic short manner.

John shook his head impatiently. ´It´s just a blow, I´ll live.´ He indicated the two people in the teahouse. ´They´ll need your help more.´

Wellington was clearly torn between where he wanted to be and where he felt his duty lay. Eventually he turned to Anna. ´Do you know how to take care of a black eye?´

Anna smiled at that. ´I have three younger brothers,´ she told him confidently. ´I´ve seen my share of blows.´

´Very well, then,´ Wellington relented. ´Keep his eye cool for at least half an hour.´

At the same moment Sybil came running over the grass, her expression a picture of worry and fright. ´What´s going on?´ she asked breathlessly the moment she reached them. ´I was with mama and we heard this scream… what´s happening?´ She took one look at the teahouse and then her face became even more pale. ´What is the matter with Matthew?´

While Anna gently tugged John´s sleeve to follow her to the servant hall and Wellington stepped into the teahouse, Robert did something he hadn´t done in two years. Not since the war had started and his youngest daughter had turned into a responsible, adult woman overnight. He reached out and pulled her gently in his arms.

It was simply a matter of duty, he reasoned. Over his daughter´s head he watched as Isobel rocked her still crying son. Mothers held their sons and fathers held their daughters, because the war simply was too much to bear for them. And because watching your child suffer was too much for either him or Isobel to bear.

* * *

><p>Anna led John through the kitchen´s garden into the servant´s hall and sat him down in a chair. Then she proceeded to fill a bowl with cold water and took a clean cloth. When she returned to him, he was leaning back in his chair, his eyes closed, looking worn-out. Placing the bowl on the table she dipped the cloth in it and wrenched it before standing behind him and placing it over his black eye, careful not to put any pressure on it. He groaned softly when the fabric made contract with the bruised skin, but relaxed when the coolness made the throbbing go less. He rested his head against her stomach and closed his good eye. She held the side of his face, her thumb involuntarily caressing his temple. They stayed like that for a good twenty minutes, Anna only breaking their touch occasionally to drench the cloth in water again. Finally his breathing became so even she thought he´d dozed off.<p>

´Are you sleeping?´ she whispered softly, peering down at his face.

The corners of his mouth twitched up before he opened his eye. ´When being awake is so much more enjoyable?´

Grinning back at him she carefully removed the cloth from his eye and inspected his eye.

´What does it look like?´ he asked slightly apprehensive.

´Black and blue,´ she told him honestly. ´But at least the swelling has lessened considerably. I´ll imagine Dr Wellington will have to take a look at it later today.´

Sitting down next to him on one of the chairs she smiled lovingly at him. ´You did it,´ she told him softly, her voice filled with admiration.

He looked slightly embarrassed at her praise. ´Well, he´s not out of the woods by far… he still has a long road ahead of him.´

´But at least you put him on that road,´ she insisted, squeezing his hand. ´Was it very hard to get through to him?´

´It was,´ he confirmed, his face darkening. ´He´s in bad shape… I know from the other soldiers how bad it was out there, but he – he´s seen some terrible things.´ It took him a few moments to pull himself away from the things the distracted man had yelled at him that afternoon. ´How did it go with Mrs Crawley?´

´She´s tough,´ Anna ´But she was very worried. It was a good thing Dr Wellington came. She seemed easier after he was there.´

´He came?´ John asked in surprise. ´He was quite adamant he wouldn´t be there, wouldn´t want to make things more difficult for her, he said.´

Before any of them could ponder any longer on the physician´s conflicting behaviour, the door to the servant´s hall opened and Robert stepped in, looking equally tired, but considerably lighter ´Bates, how are you?´ he asked, his voice worried.

´I´m fine,´ John replied, getting to his feet, Anna following suit. ´I´ve been well taking care of.´

´Splendid!´ Robert replied, relief now filling his face. Still when he examined John´s face he frowned a bit. ´You do look rather beaten up, I´m afraid. Matthew hit you good.´

´It´ll fade soon enough,´ John answered with a small shrug. ´And if anyone asks…´ he added, looking from Anna to Lord Grantham, ´I tripped and hit myself straight in the eye with my cane.´

Anna stifled her snort, but Lord Grantham let out an unrestrained barking laugh. ´Thank you,´ he managed finally. But the appreciation in his voice was clear and very serious.

* * *

><p>It had been a long and emotional wrenching day for almost everyone, Anna reflected as she entered Lady Sybil´s room to help her getting ready for bed. After dinner she´d told John quietly to go to bed straight away. He admitted having a splitting headache and hadn´t argued it. Mrs Hughes had been absent since dinner and Anna had seen her entering her parlour with Mrs Crawley.<p>

She found Lady Sybil sitting at her dressing table, looking pensive as well. ´Mama is with papa,´ she told her quietly. ´Papa was rather shaken… he cares a lot for Matthew, well**,** they both do, I suppose. Is Mr Bates alright?

´He is,´ Anna reassured her. ´Just a good night´s sleep and he´ll be as good as new. And I think Mrs Crawley is with Mrs Hughes, so she´ll be alright as well.´

Sybil chuckled at that. ´They both will be after half a gallon of tea I dare say.´ Her face sobering she continued, ´I heard Dr Wellington is keeping an eye on cousin Matthew tonight.´

´Who told you that?´ Anna asked in surprise.

´Carson did,´ Sybil replied. ´He appears to be everywhere tonight.´

Anna smiled softly, realizing that in these times of crises all the inhabitants of Downton knit together like an odd family, taking care of and watching out for each other.

´Do you think Matthew will be alright?´ Sybil asked quietly, her voice heavy with concern.

´I´ve asked Mr Bates the same,´ Anna answered. ´He says that Mr Crawley still has some things to work through, but he´ll be alright. He´ll pull through, you have to believe that milady.´

´This stupid war,´ Sybil whispered hoarsely. ´It feels like every man I ever knew is gone – has died or has gotten hurt. When is it going to end?´

´I don´t know, milady,´ Anna replied softly. ´But I know we got through today and I believe Mr Crawley is better of this evening then he was this morning, even though he may not feel it at the moment.`

´You´re right,´ Sybil said, brightening slightly. ´All in all today was a good day.´

´It was,´ Anna agreed. ´And together we´ll see what tomorrow brings when tomorrow comes.´

When sometime later Sybil laid down her bed she still pondered on Anna´s words. Together… She remembered seeing her with Bates, all those months ago the night after soldier Bell had died and she remembered how it had been Anna who had lead Bates away to take care of his eye. They were facing this war together. Her parents were together, drawing strength from each other during every hardship that came on their way. Edith had Sir Anthony, Mary was in New York now and had George Vandyck. And whether she noticed it or not, cousin Isobel had Dr Wellington watching out for her.

She thought of Tom. She use to confide in him. She use to think that she could face anything as long as she could face it with him. But he was gone. And even after more than six months it still hurt as much as the first day she heard of his death. If being together was the key to making it through this war in one piece, how was she ever going to?

Rolling over to her side, Sybil hugged her pillow to her chest and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


	14. Chapter 14

_A/N: Thank you for clearing SUTH for me! This chapter ended up longer than I intented it to be, I hope you´ll enjoy it! C/H and Isobel/Wellington shippers, don´t worry, they´ll be back next chapter. _

**Chapter 14  
><strong>_December 1916_

Shuddering in the cold air of early morning, Daisy lugged the heavy coal buckets through the hallway, trying with all her might not to make any noise. She´d wrapped a wool wrap around her shoulders, but still her face and hands felt frozen. Her stiff fingers barely managed to hold on to the handle of the bucket and she cursed under her breath when the bucket dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. Pausing briefly she held her breath, straining her ears to see if anyone had heard her – had woken because of her. When the house remained perfectly quiet, she sighed deeply and picked up her burden again. It was a little after five ´o clock in the morning and after another sleepless night, the day seemed to stretch out before her like a black, insurmountable hurdle.

She hadn´t slept properly for months. Not since William had died. Not since she was visited by nightmares every night ever since. William being shot, William lying in the trenches bleeding to death, William captured by Germans, William falling – falling and screaming her name. She´d stopped talking about those nightmares a long time ago, realizing that telling people about them only managed to make them feel as miserable as she did. She couldn´t get over him, couldn´t get past the grief. She tried, heavens she had tried, but she just couldn´t. And now that Christmas was approaching, a season of festivities and joy, she felt the sadness of her loss only keener.

Carefully and as silent as a mouse she opened the door to Mr Crawley´s room, the room he´d been occupying ever since he´d returned from Verdun. To her surprise the room was bathing in soft light, caused by a few burning candles and a warm fire blazing in the fireplace. Mr Crawley was standing near the window, dressed in his dressing-gown and looking over the snow-covered grounds of Downton, basking in the moonlight. Shocked she tried to take a few steps back, but she fumbled and fell over her own feet, dropping the heavy bucket in the process.

´I´m ever so sorry Mr Crawley…´ she stuttered anxiously. ´I didn´t know you were up… or I wouldn´t have…´

´Don´t worry about it,´ he answered in a friendly voice. ´You couldn´t have known. I´m supposed to be asleep like everyone else, but I find sleeping a rather gruesome task at the moment.´

The kindness in his voice calmed her somewhat and maybe that was why she blurted before she could think: ´The nightmares are terrible, aren´t they?´ Turning bright red when she realised what she had said, she began to stammer once more. ´I´m s-sorry, I didn´t mean to… I was just…´

´Calm down,´ he said, smiling somewhat. ´I´m not going to bite your head off… You are right, the nightmares are terrible. Do you have them as well?´

Still shaking from being so impertinence Daisy nodded frantically. ´They never stop… and I never get used to them. I just miss him so much and…´ looking down at her feet a sudden thought struck her. ´Mr Crawley… you were at Verdun, weren´t you?´

´Yes, I was,´ he answered, somewhat bewildered at the change of subject.

´Did you…´ Daisy wasn´t quite believing her nerve at asking yet another very impertinent question. If Mrs Patmore, or worse Mrs Hughes found out she was not only talking to the heir of Downton, but actually pestering him with questions, she felt sure there would be no end to their fury. And yet she had to know, and he was the only one who could tell her.

´Did you know a William Mason, sir?´ The question hung between them for a moment before she rattled on. ´I know there were many soldiers there, thousands of them I imagine, so I know you probably wouldn´t know him… but he came from Downton you see… he was a footman here and he…´

´You´re Daisy´ Matthew exclaimed. Up until then he had been merely enjoying his brief conversation with the nervous scullery maid. Enjoying anything that interrupted the monotony of another long, sleepless night. Now**,** memories came flooding back to him.

´I am,´ Daisy replied breathlessly. ´Did you know William?´

´I did, he was part of my battalion,´ Matthew replied. ´William took care of our horses, he was very good at it, kept them in wonderful conditions, despite everything.´

´How- how did he die?´ Daisy asked trembling. She just had to know. Maybe her nightmares would finally stop if she knew the truth. Maybe she could finally begin to let go if she knew what happened to him, what his final moments had been like.*

´He was hit by a grenade ,´ he told her quietly. Upon seeing her look of horror he added reassuringly. ´It killed him instantly, he didn´t suffer. It was like he was standing there and the next moment he was gone without any pain.´ He decided not to tell the girl that when they´d found him he had been unrecognisable. They´d only managed to identify him because of a piece of his nametag on a bit uniform they´d found from him.

´I´m glad he didn´t suffer…´ Daisy whispered. ´I was so afraid he would have… I kept seeing him…´

´Well, if anything it was you that kept him sane,´ Matthew told her gently.

Daisy´s head snapped up at that and her eyes turned wide. ´What ever do you mean by that, sir?´

´He, well it was obvious he cared a lot about you,´ Matthew answered. ´He talked about you a lot. It made him feel better. He always smiled when he talked of you… You see, many men who´d been in the trenches for a long time suffer – mentally I mean. There were some of them,´ Matthew shuddered at the memory, ´some who started to talk to themselves or to their shoe or something. Some men went mad in there. But William always talked of you and I think he´s kept his sanity because of you. You were a great comfort to him.´

Tears started to roll down over Daisy´s face, but their path was interrupted by the creases of her smile. After all those months of grieving at last some sense of comfort wrapped itself around her heart. ´I should be going… they´ll yell at me if I´m late.´ Wiping her cheeks furiously with the back of her hand, she stood just that bit taller then she had in months. ´Thank you so much, Mr Crawley.´

He shook his head, oddly enough feeling a lot better himself. ´No… thank you.´

* * *

><p>It wasn´t snowing anymore and the crisp afternoon beckoned him outside. In the hall Matthew met Sybil. She greeted him with a small smile, but he noticed a slightly guarded look in her eyes, as if she was measuring him. He sighed inwardly. A lot of people seemed to be on guard for him these days – a side effect of his weeks of introspection.<p>

´I´m going to take a walk,´ he told, making an effort to make his tone sound light. ´Would you like to join me?´ She hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, her smile widening. ´I´d love to, I have been indoors for days. Let me get my coat.´

Ten minutes later they were walking on a curved path behind the house. Breathing in deeply, he began to feel at home for the first time since his return. After a little while his companion broke the silence. ´How are you, Matthew?´

Sensing he couldn´t just brush off this question with a ´I´m fine, thank you´, he considered his answer carefully before he spoke. ´I´m starting to feel better throughout a lot of really bad moments.´

Sybil smiled sympathetically. ´You´ve been through a great deal. Nobody denies that.´

´True,´ he replied thoughtfully. ´But I´m beginning to realize that I´m not the only one. I´ve been talking a lot with your father and Bates over the past two weeks. They´ve been through a war as well and they had to deal with it too. And then this morning I had a very early and very interesting conversation.´

´Really?´ Sybil asked, her curiosity piqued. ´With whom?´

´Your scullery maid actually, her name is Daisy. Apparently she had an understanding with one of your footmen, William. He was in my battalion… in anyway, talking to her made me realize so many people are hurt by this war.´

Her face fell at the mention of William´s name. ´I remember William,´ she said softly. ´We were told of his death a few months ago – his and Tom Branson´s, our chauffeur.´

There was such a tone of sadness, of grief in her voice that it stuck him. He looked sideways and noticed her face was pale and stricken. He remembered Tom Branson, he remembered the rally in Ripon all those years ago. He remembered the chauffeur´s worry, how he had carefully carried her after she had fallen. He had wondered then and now he wondered again. ´You were rather fond of Tom, weren´t you?´ he asked tentatively.

Sybil smiled a sad, wistful smile. ´Very fond,´ she acknowledged. Glancing at him, she knew he understood exactly what she meant.

´I´m sorry you were hurt,´ he told her honestly.

´I´m sorry you were hurt as well,´ she echoed. They paused and looked at each other, their gazes connecting somewhere. He turned slightly and offered her his arm. She took it by sliding her hand around his elbow. They continued to walk in close silence.

* * *

><p>Two days later he found her at the library, sitting in one of the broad windowsills, reading a letter.<p>

´I´m not disturbing you, am I?´ he asked politely.

She looked up smiling. ´No, not at all. I´m just reading a letter from Mary.´

´How is Mrs Vandyck?´ he inquired, his voice even.

´She´s well – very well indeed. She´s enjoying New York immensely.´ Sybil grinned. ´I think she´s adapting to the American ways well. Her letters are filled with strange new words.´

He laughed at that. ´What sort of man is George Vandyck?´ he then asked curiously.

´Very distinguished, very ambitious…´ Sybil grinned. ´He´s a good man for Mary.´ Realizing what she´d said her face reddened and her hand flew to her mouth. ´I´m so sorry, Matthew,´ she apologized earnestly. ´That was a very thoughtless thing of me to say…´

He raised his hand in an attempt to calm her. ´It´s alright, Sybil. I knew Mary was married, your father wrote to me while I was in Verdun. I am perfectly reconciled to it.´

´Are you really?´ Sybil asked anxiously. She remembered it all so well. His sudden disappearance to Manchester, Mary´s heartbreak and the disappointment of her parents.

´I am,´ Matthew replied seriously. ´I have loved your sister a great deal and when I first went to France I thought about her constantly. I even attempted to write her, even though all contact between us had ended officially. But when your father wrote to me six months ago that she had married… I was already so consumed by the war then that I felt little about it. I thought about it some more when I was recovering in Etaples. It seems that somehow, without me really noticing, I had moved passed those feelings.´

He paused for a few moments, looking thoughtfully down at his shoes. ´In a way I feel that my life has been cut in halves by the war. There´s my life before France and my life after it. Mary belongs to my life before it and that part is truly over. There´s only after the war left for me.´ He looked up to meet her eyes, his gaze somewhat apologetic. ´Does that make sense?´

´It does actually,´ Sybil replied contemplatively. ´War changes us. I don´t think I can go back to who I was before it. Too much has happened, too much has changed. We can only move forward.´

´You´re right,´ he answered softly. ´And for a while I didn´t want to. I suppose you could say I was afraid to go on…´

´And now?´ she asked gently.

´I take it one day at the time, but…´ Matthew paused, not sure whether or not to continue. He had grown to admire Sybil´s maturity and the way she had taken up so many responsibilities. But could he burden her with his morose thoughts? To his surprise she spoke herself, giving a voice to his own thoughts.

´But sometimes you wonder if the next day is worth waking up for… when so much has been taken from you?´

Her words were heavy, melancholic and infinitely sad. But they were a great comfort to him. Simply knowing that someone else had just as much trouble getting up and getting through the day as he had, made it much easier to bear.

* * *

><p>Over the weeks that followed they began to spend more and more time together. They took walks over the snowy grounds of Downton, went to Rippon together on the first day he felt he was able<p>

to leave the house. Matthew learned a friend of him was recovering in Easingwold and he took Sybil with him to visit him. At first he just found her easy to talk to, but as time went on, he started to really enjoy their feisty debates. She was very opinionated about a great many things, and he loved to see her getting riled up.

´I do feel the suffragettes are more or less burning their own bridges by taking such a militant stance against the government,´ he told her casually on the way back from Rippon.

´That´s preposterous!´ she replied hotly. ´Those actions, although perhaps extreme**,** are needed to make our point clear.´

´But surely you do not condone to burning mailboxes and throwing stones through windows,´ he asked, eyes twinkling.

´Well no, not as such…´ she hesitated for a bit and he was amused to see her torn between her passionate support of women rights and her more placate nature that adorned violence and disruption. ´But the suffrage movement is about more than smashing windows and burning letters. It´s about women getting equal rights and not being threatened like second-class beings.

´Not only women are being treated like second-class beings,´ he felt compelled to point out.

´I know that,´ she answered, `and I hope the women´s right movement will mark the beginning of many social reforms. But we have to start somewhere. Don´t you think women are as capable as men for most jobs?´

´You´re not exactly asking the most objective person on this matter,´ Matthew retorted. ´I´ve watched my mother work alongside my father my whole life. I´d have hell to pay if I said she wasn´t as capable.´

´Exactly!´ Sybil cried. ´Take your mother for instance, she´s a very good nurse, everybody says so. What if she wasn´t allowed to become one? Come to that, why can´t she become a doctor? She certainly has the capacities!´

´Who says she isn´t?´ Matthew asked drily.

Sybil whirled around in the car seat. ´Do you mean to say she…´

´Not officially of course,´ Matthew answered quickly. ´But really, after all their years working together there really wasn´t much difference between their duties. Restrictions don´t always unable us to reach our full potential.´

´Be that as it may,´ Sybil said adamantly, ´I still believe that a lot can be gained from equal rights for women.´

´I think so too,´ Matthew agreed. ´But I also think that a woman who is truly driven to do something or become something doesn´t need a piece of legalisation to enforce that drive.´

* * *

><p>Anna noticed during dinner that he looked moody. Never one to display his feelings very openly, he behaved perfectly normal and polite on the outside, but she could tell by the little things. The way<p>

his smile was entirely absent from his eyes, the way he shuffled his food around on his plate without really taking a bite, the way his breathing changed when O´Brien was being insufferable as usual. After dinner, when the family had retreated into the library and the servants usually had some time to themselves she saw him disappear in the scullery. A little later she found him there, furiously brushing his Lordship´s shoes.

´Are you alright?´ she asked tentatively. ´You looked a little out of sorts over dinner.´

Somehow he managed to smile at her whilst still looking angry. ´A while ago I wrote a letter to an old friend I knew in London, when I was still in the army. I´d written him to ask him if he knew where Vera was.´

´Oh…´ Anna said, sighing in understanding.

´Today I got the reply and he doesn't have the faintest clue. He last saw her after I went to prison.´

´I´m sorry John,´ Anna told him softly. Glancing around to make sure they were truly alone she rested her hand on his arms. ´I`m sure there are other ways. Someone most know where she went to…´

´But that´s just it,´ he replied, smiling sadly. ´This friend was my last straw… I have already written everyone I can think of and nobody knows a thing. I need to be free from her, Anna. But for that I need to find her first.´

´You will find her,´ Anna answered comforting. ´She can´t have fallen from the earth. Eventually someone will know where she is and tell you.´

´You never doubt everything will work out, do you?´ he asked amazed.

´Never!´ Anna insisted fiercely. ´One day you´ll be free from her and then we can really be together.´

Her unfailing believe in their future always managed to drive his own worries and concerns away. Lying alone in bed at night he could fret and fear that it would never happen. That he never would be free from Vera and that he would have to let Anna go. That he never could give her what she wanted – what they wanted: a home, a marriage, children. But he only needed to talk with her, sometimes only needed to look at her and whatever his fears were, they melted away in the sight of her unwavering hope and optimism. It was going to happen, things would be alright.

´I wish I had made different decisions,´ he told her softly, his voiced laced with regret.

She gave him that beautiful smile of hers that always made him feel loved without fail.

´No guilt,´ she told him softly.

´No guilt,´ he agreed, returning her smile. He looked down for a moment before he spoke again. ´Still, I´d like to tell you how Vera and I… happened.´

She nodded thoughtfully. ´I confess I´ve wondered about it… I want to hear it.´

Carefully slipping off the gloves he used when brushing shoes, he smiled ruefully and leaned against the counter. ´When I was in the army, me and a couple of friends used to go out on the nights we were off duty. We usually went to pubs, drinking a lot more then we really should and flirt with the girls who came there as well. That´s where I met Vera Harris. She was kind of pretty, a little naïve but very boisterous and I liked that at the time. She seemed to like me a lot and… well, we spend the night together.´

_You suspected this_, Anna told herself sternly. _You knew he was a different man in those days. You knew the self-restraint he is displaying these days is a result of a lack of it in other times. You´ve known all along._

At the time she was working at a factory.´ John continued. ´And I knew the overseer by reputation. He was incredibly strict. The factory girls were required to be in by eight ´o clock and any fraternizing with males was ground for instant dismissal.`

A few days later Vera came to my barracks, completely desolate. She had missed her curfew, obviously, the night we were together, and one of the girls of her dorm had ratted her out. So the overseer had sacked her on the spot. She was desperate… she had nowhere to turn to and was convinced she would end up in the workhouse.´

´Didn´t she have any family that could help her out?´ Anna asked.

´I don´t think she had,´ John replied. ´I´m not sure she had any family. I tried asking her about it, but she was always very vague about it. So I took it she was alone in the world. When she came to me I felt responsible for her, felt I was to blame for the situation she was in. And I liked her well enough. So I offered her marriage. It was a thoughtless, stupid, hasty thing to do, but I did it and she agreed. We got married and found a place to live and I remained with the army. In a way not that much changed for me. I was still required to spend a lot of time at the barracks, so in a way I never gave up my bachelor ways. I thought I was happy – could be reasonably happy with her.

`But it wasn´t until a few months into our marriage that I began to notice things about her that made it very hard to maintain our marital bliss. I had liked her naivety at first, but after we were married I discovered that she just…´ he searched for words, trying to explain himself well. ´She seemed outside reality sometimes. She simply refused to deal with an unpleasant situation. Whether it was the fact that money ran tight at the end of the month or that the chimney was failing, she acted like it didn´t exist and continued to spend money or make fires, with all consequences. And of course,´ he spoke the words harshly, ´at the time I wasn´t exactly a picnic either.

After a year I was very eager to get away from it all and I jumped at a chance to go to war. Well, you know what happened in South Africa and how I came back. Looking back I think very few people could have dealt with the person I was then, but Vera certainly couldn´t. And I shouldn´t have blamed her for it, but I did. I was so angry, so bitter about the war… and the drinking made it worse, it made me even more angry. Lashing out to Vera was so easy. I could – can be very mean if I want to.´

Finally looking at her, Anna could see his face was ridden with guilt. ´I was horrible to her, Anna. I never physically hurt her, but I didn´t need to… I just cut her with my words.

Vera could never defend herself against my words but she was rather hot-tempered. When I had provoked her long enough she would throw anything at me she could get her hands on. I don´t think there is one item at our house she hasn´t flung at my head at one point.

One night we were fighting again… I´d been drinking, as usual and we were arguing about money. As usual. I accused her of wasting it and told her it would be her fault if we got thrown out of her house because we couldn´t pay rent. That was the night she stole the silverware.

When the soldiers came the next morning, Vera was gone and I was more or less sober. I hated myself for what I´d become, felt guilty for having driven her to do such a thing. So when they took me for questioning, because Vera wasn´t there**,** I confessed to it all. I don´t think many people believed I did it, but with my confession I could be convicted. And so I got two years.`

Somewhere during his story she had taken his hand between hers, much in the same way she had when he´d told her about South Africa. This small expression of loyalty tugged at his heart and he gripped her hand tightly. She had witnessed every demon from his past emerge from the shadows and still she stood next to him.

´What happened to Vera?´ she asked quietly.

´I don´t know,´ he answered. When I came back from prison I searched for her, but she was gone and nobody seemed to know where she was. I´ve wondered if she has gone abroad… it would be the most logical explanation. I just don´t know.´

Gazing at her face he searched her eyes. ´Have I shocked you into wanting to run away from me as fast as you can?´ he asked and there was only a tiny hint of joking in his voice.

Stepping very close to him, she was well aware of the risk. Anyone could walk in now and then there would be hell to pay. Risking it anyway, she lifted her hand and caressed the side of his face. ´I´m not going anywhere,´ she told him tenderly. ´Your mother has told me some of this already and I wasn´t born yesterday either… I figured some of it myself.´

Over the years there had been many opportunities where his control had almost slipped. Moments where he had been a blink of an eye away from kissing her or taking her in his arms, despite his promises. He had always managed to hold back, always manage to catch himself just in time. Until now. He was already kissing the inside of her wrist that was the closest part of her to his mouth and he would have gone for her lips if…

… if Daisy hadn´t walked in, humming softly to herself. Jumping apart, he feverishly tried to get his breathing under control, tried to stop his heart from thundering, tried to keep his frustration from exploding.

Anna managed to regain her composure a lot quicker than he was. ´Hello Daisy,´ she said pleasantly. ´You look in a good mood this evening.´

´I am,´ Daisy replied, smiling brightly. ´I´m feeling loads better.´

* * *

><p>They took a walk around the cottages and ended up on a bench near the brook. Sybil took a look at her companion and frowned in worry. He was behaving downcast and melancholy all morning. He was sitting slightly slumped, his posture dejected, staring at the streaming of the brook, his face dark and brooding.<p>

´Are you alright?´ she asked him softly, shaking him out of his reverie.

It was a testament to how far he had come these past months that he turned to her and smiled slightly. ´Yes… no… not really. ´I received a letter this morning from the wife of a comrade of me. We fought together for quite some time, until he was send to Somme. His wife wrote to inform me of his death. He leaves her and two young children behind. The youngest is only a toddler… he´ll never know who his father is.´

´That´s terrible,´ Sybil replied softly, her heart clenching at the thought of that family. ´Did you know him well?´

´Very well,´ Matthew replied. ´I think the strongest bounds of friendship are formed on battleground. I think I knew everything about him there was to know and he knew everything about me. It´s just that I´d hoped…´ lifting up a stone near his feet he threw it in the brook with considerable force. ´It´s just such a terrible waste!

Turning to face her again, he asked, his voice filled with sorrow: ´How do we go on from this, Sybil? How can we ever be happy again? After all this pain and terror, is there anything left that makes it even worth to go on?´

Looking down she chewed on her lip for a moment before answering, having asked herself that question many times as well.

´I don´t think there is anything in the world that can undo the horror that has befallen on the world in these past years. But I think there´s enough love and selflessness and honour left to keep us going. Maybe it´s in the little things… when my father was in the war office in London mama kept a diary for him. She knew how much he would miss Downton and so wrote down every little thing that happened. When he returned he only had to read it through and it was as if he´d never left.

Take your mother**,** who´s cared so much for the soldiers that came in. She was up until the early hours of the morning, comforting young men in pain while all that time she was worried sick about you. Think of Anna**,** who stayed with my father when the village hall collapsed. He told her to get out, but she remained and saved his life instead. Think of Mr Bates, who´d tried so hard to help you, even if it meant he got punched in the face…´ Somewhat to her amusement Matthew´s face reddened visibly at that.

´Terrible things have happened in the world, but good things happen as well and that´s what makes it worth to go on. I… I was heartbroken when Tom died, but I will fall in love again. I will be happy again… I resolve to be!´

He intertwined his fingers with hers, holding her hand in his own and lifting it to his lips. ´Dear Sybil,´ he said softly, awe in his voice. ´You´re so courageous.´

He looked at her, the hurt and sadness mostly gone from his face, replaced by wonderment and hope. Leaning in he gently and very lightly brushed his lips over hers.

´Teach me how to be happy again?´

* * *

> <div> 


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15  
><strong>_December 1916_

On the 23th of December, the Crawleys organized a Christmas party for the wounded soldiers residing with them. The ward was decorated with holy, garlands and a large Christmas tree. For some obscure reason the Christmas spirit had descended on Downton rather decidedly. Was it despite of the war or because of it? Did all the suffering of the past year made the soldiers, servants and family alike yearn for a brief interlude of peace and joy?

There was punch, there was laughter and music. A few soldiers who could play musical instruments had formed an impromptu orchestra and were filling the ward with cheerful, familiar tunes. Lord and Lady Grantham had come to join the festivities as well and were making their rounds, talking with soldiers. Isobel stood aside, just watching it all and taking in the scene. Matthew and Sybil were seated in a secluded corner, talking softly with each other. Isobel smiled softly at them, happiness momentarily lighting her features. When she remembered how desolate her son had been, only a few short months ago it was nothing short of a Christmas miracle to see him so alive, filled with new hopes and dreams. Isobel had always been fond of Sybil, of her compassionate nature, her fierce opinions and her spirit. But watching the transformation she had brought about in her son made that she could easily love her as a daughter – perhaps already did so.

Usually she loved Christmas. She loved the atmosphere, the buzz and the whirl of activities. Briefly she remembered Christmas back in Manchester, when Reginald was still alive and Matthew still young. How he´d gone to bed on Christmas Eve, almost too bouncy to go to sleep. She would never admit to it of course, but she was always almost as excited as he was. Their house had filled with friends and family, all of them celebrating together.

But this year she felt somehow dispatched from it all. She just couldn´t get in the swing of it. Perhaps too much had happened, perhaps she´d seen too much suffering this year to get caught up in a dream that was called Christmas. She wasn´t feeling depressed or moody exactly, it was just that she wasn´t happy either. There was this unidentified feeling of loss inside of her that she couldn´t seem to shake off.

Deciding that she could do with some fresh air and a little solitude, she slipped in her coat and quietly exited the ward through one of the French doors of the drawing room. Outside it was blissfully cool and quiet. Making her way through the dark she reached the wall near the greenhouse and leaned against it, closing her eyes for a moment, enjoying the peaceful moment. When she heard a little noise beside her she looked up startled, realizing she wasn´t alone.

´I´m sorry,´ she started a little nervously. ´I didn´t know someone was here already.´

´Don´t apologize, ´ Timothy Wellington answered, his deep voice sounding a bit gruff. ´I was well hidden.´

´You were,´ she attempted to answer lightly, concentrating on breathing evenly. ´Were you attempting to escape the holiday cheer?´

´A little bit,´ he replied, a note of amusement in his voice. ´Although it certainly makes for a memorable last evening.´

He would be leaving tomorrow, directly after breakfast. One of the lorry drivers would bring him to the station and he would be on the first train to London. Isobel felt she couldn´t make a reply.

´I´ll miss Downton,´ he said after a few moments of silence.

In surprise, bordering on shock, Isobel turned to face him, but in the pitch-darkness of the night she could only make out his form. ´Will you?´ she asked incredulously.

´Yes, I will.´ He answered calmly.

Leaning back against the wall, Isobel stared into the night, not seeing anything, her thoughts a jumble. ´Why?´ she asked eventually, her voice barely more than a whisper.

´Isobel… please…´ his voice was soft, pleading with her.

But she pushed on. After all, she´d always been stubborn. Especially when something really mattered to her. ´Just humour me,´ she replied quietly. ´You´ll be leaving tomorrow, we´ll probably never see each other again. Can´t you just do me this small favour and at least tell me why?´ She found it easier not to look at him. Just to stand there next to him against the wall, staring in the darkness.

A long silence stretched between them. He was battling with himself, with his control and his desire to finally be open with her, if only for just one time.

´You really don´t know, do you?´ he asked softly.

´I don´t,´ she responded flatly. ´I´ve tried to think of any possible reason, I´ve started to imagine all kinds of things… but I honestly don´t know.´

Taking a deep breath his desire for openness won. ´Well, imagine this, then…´ he began in a pretended calm voice. Not having to look at her made telling her so much easier. He could almost pretend it was someone else, or someone else´s secret he was sharing.

´Imagine that you didn´t have an overly happy childhood. You´re an only child. Your mother died when you were four years old. You barely have any memories of her. Your father is a doctor and he´s always on call. Visiting patients, working late hours in the hospital, giving lectures at the university… You´re never wanting of course. You´re fed, clothed, educated properly. But it isn´t until you´re eighteen and you enrol in university to become a doctor yourself, you realise how lonely your life has been.´

She was used to his manner of speaking. To his short sentences, spoken curtly and deprived of feeling. But she could hear behind the words, feel the emotion in it, deeply hidden but very much apparent. Lump forming in her throat, she silently listened as he continued.

´At the university you gain friends. One friend in particular. The best of men and an outstanding physician. You come to regard him almost as your brother. After university you spend three years in India doing fieldwork and upon your return you learn that this friend has married and is living in Manchester. So you write him to congratulate him and immediately receive an invitation to dinner with his reply.

Of course you accept, eager to meet his wife, rejoicing in his happiness. But when you meet your friend's wife…´ his voice faltered and he cleared his throat, willing himself to continue, his next words suddenly laced with emotion. ´… you´ll find she´s the most beautiful woman you´ve ever met. And by the time the evening is over you´ve not only learned that she is beautiful, but that she also possesses intelligence, wit and spirit. And you´ve learned that she loves your friend deeply.

Of course at first you think this foolish fancy will pass soon. But it doesn´t. And after two or three meetings you know two things for certain: you´ve fallen for her and you´re in an utter mess. She´s your best friend´s wife. If he ever knew, he would cut all contact instantly and rightly so. He doesn´t deserve this betrayal, this violation of his trust.

And so you try with all your might to tackle these inappropriate feelings, to put a stop to them. But you never quite manage. And the only possible way to make sure you´re never found out is to distance yourself from her as much as possible. In the end you reach some sort of traitorous truce with yourself. The feelings never entirely disappear, but you keep them tightly locked. Even when you friend dies many years later.

Then there´s a war. You want to enlist, want to fight for your country but are told you are too old to fight,´ he spat the last words bitterly. ´But after you´ve nagged their heads off they offer you a post in a convalescent home. Grudgingly, you take it. Only to find her there as well. More beautiful then you remember. More capable, as well. When you´re performing surgery with her you feel like you´ve been given an extra pair of hands. But in essence it doesn´t change a thing. You still cannot tell her.´

He finished his long speech – the longest she had ever heard him utter in her presence with a shaking breath. When her mind had finally caught up with his words, the first thing Isobel noticed was that her cheeks were cold. Then she realized she´d been crying for quite a while and that the cold air of the night had chilled her tears until they felt like ice on her face. Somewhere during his story she had turned to face him, her eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, enabling her to see a little of his face, illuminated by the pale moonlight. He had not once looked at her, had gazed far into the night, making the journey through his memory. She had seen the emotions play across his face. From tender softness to desperate resignation. And she finally understood – almost.

´But why couldn´t you tell me this these past months, why couldn´t you tell me anything after Reginald had died?´

´Because his passing didn't change anything!´ he answered forcefully. ´Isobel, your husband was my best friend. One of the very few men I call friend. I would never willingly cause him grief. If we´d be standing on a battleground together I would gladly take a bullet for him. And yet I have longed after his wife, almost from the moment he married her, wanting her for my own. My conscious would not – will not allow me to betray him further by pursuing you. You do not know how my feelings for you have tormented me.´

´I think I´m starting to get a rather clear idea,´ Isobel answered softly, her mind still reeling with everything he had just disclosed to her.

´And I don´t think you have betrayed your friendship to Reginald in any way, Timothy,´ she told him softly. Maybe it was that she used his first name that shocked him into silence, but silent he was and Isobel took this chance to continue, to speak her mind. ´You´ve always respected our marriage, even if it caused you a great deal of pain. I´ve always believed our feelings can´t be helped, but our actions can. And your actions have always been honourable.´

He looked at her as if he couldn´t believe what he was hearing and it occurred to her that he had most likely never discussed this with anyone. His next words confirmed her suspicion.

´You are not affronted?´

´No, I´m not!´ she replied immediately, unknowingly adding a warmness to her voice. ´I´m very surprised and… a bit flattered. But I´m not affronted in the least. I just wished you ´d been open with me sooner. To be honest, you´ve hurt me by acting so cold and indifferent… oh, I know why you did,´ she added when he began to explain himself again. ´I know why, it just… hurt.´

´I´m sorry,´ he told her quietly, his voice filled with regret. ´Believe me when I say that I never intended to hurt you. But I know that I did so anyway. I´m so sorry, Isobel.´

She smiled at him. The first genuine smile in months. ´I know that, too.´

He gazed at her face, suddenly feeling heavy with regret. He was leaving tomorrow. Now that his truth was finally out, he was going. Would it have made a difference if he´d stayed? he wondered in a fleeting instant. Would he have been able to win her for him? Would he have tried? Although her words had unravelled everything he had believed for so long, he wasn´t yet sure he would have attempted to pursue her, even if he had the chance. If she would even return his feelings. Perhaps it was for the best that he was leaving.

´Write to me,´ she told him softly, her voice a little breathlessly. ´I would like to know how you´re faring in London and… I promise I´ll write back.´ Hoping he didn´t found her incredibly forward she found herself holding her breath for a moment.

´I´d like that,´ he answered. She couldn´t see the relief washing over his face in the darkness of the garden, but he found himself clutching to that small ray of hope. A line of communication would persevere between them. It was more than he could have hoped for, more then he´d ever allowed himself to dream of. But he would begin to do so from this moment on.

* * *

><p>Elsie knew Isobel well enough to know something had happened the moment she saw her. Quickly instructing a few housemaids to ensure there were enough refreshments in the ward, she beckoned her head, signalling for her to step in a rather deserted hallway near the entrance hall.<p>

´What has happened?´ she asked curiously, taking in Isobel´s starry-eyed expression.

´Timothy- Dr Wellington and I had a talk,´ Isobel replied, positively beaming. ´And I must say it was rather enlightening.´

A smirk, accompanied by a raising of eyebrows donned Elsie´s face as she inquired: ´Timothy? Oh my… I take a wild guess in assuming he doesn´t dislike you after all?´

´He loves me…´ In saying it out loud, Isobel´s voice betrayed all the wonderment she felt. ´He told me he´s loved for a long time, after he first met me. Even when I was still married to Reginald… that´s why he never did anything about it. He felt very guilty since Reginald was his best friend. Somewhat to her surprise she noticed Elsie didn't look as remotely shocked as this revelation a she felt. ´You´re not surprised?´ she concluded bewildered.

´Well, for the last weeks his partiality was very clear,´ Elsie told her. ´I´m actually surprised he hasn´t made any declarations earlier. I´ve wondered at what was keeping him back.´

´Guilt,´ Isobel replied, looking thoughtful. ´He´s felt so guilty about loving me while I was still married that he couldn´t bring himself to show any of it when that wasn´t any longer the case.´

Comprehension dawned on Elsie´s face. ´It makes sense in a way. He has probably never allowed himself to love, never has enjoyed it. It´s no wonder he couldn´t turn that guilt around once your husband died. There´s something liberating in loving someone when you know you´re feelings are being reciprocated. And something quite depressing about unrequited love.´

Upon seeing Isobel´s puzzling expression, she explained further. ´Being in love with Charles has never actually made me unhappy, but I could never fully enjoy it either once I knew he had gotten past his feelings for me. I´ve always merely tolerated my feelings for him. Until I believed he was courting me again…´ sadness briefly flashed over her face as she spoke these words. ´For the first time I could be happy that I loved him, thinking he returned it…. Does that sound terrible odd?´ Elsie asked a little awkward as she noticed Isobel´s shocked expression.

´Isobel…?´

Then she realized her friend wasn´t looking at her, but past her, at something behind her. Turning around she felt the bottom drop out of her stomach when she saw Charles Carson standing there, looking completely incredulous.

Elsie heard someone gasp and realized it had been her. Sweat had broken out on her brow and she could feel her hands trembling.

´Mrs Crawley, would you mind giving us a minute?´ Charles asked, staring firmly at Elsie, his gaze burning holes in her skin.

´Uhm…´ Isobel hesitated, looking from her wide-eyed friend to the even more formidable then normal looking butler who seemed to have grasped control of the awkward situation.

´Please Mrs Crawley,´ Charles insisted, never once shifting his gaze. ´Mrs Hughes and I need to talk.´ There was no denying that they did, Isobel reasoned warily. And although she loathed leaving Elsie behind in this uncomfortable position, there was very little else she could do.

´Will I see you both in the ward later?´ she asked, taking a few steps back. Elsie, who seemed regain her senses somewhat nodded slightly. Charles however completely ignored the question.

Once Isobel had left Charles took Elsie gently by her elbow and began to pull her towards his pantry. ´We´re going to talk,´ he said in a soft but very determined voice.

Elsie´s mind was reeling with the events of the last few minutes, fervently trying to think of a way to get out of this mortifying situation. How much had he heard? How could she ever explain and not completely wreck their friendship in the progress. By the time he had opened the door to his pantry and let her in she still didn´t have a clue.

Closing the door behind him he still didn´t take his eyes of her. ´Will you please explain to me what is going on?´ he asked, his voice a little on edge. ´For the past few months I feel like I´m constantly falling behind on who you are and what you want from me.´

´Charles, I realize that this must be very confusing for you,´ Elsie started to replied, folding her hands tightly behind her back. ´I suppose I should start with explaining that a few months ago I started to receive… attentions… from a gentleman. Dr Clarkson to be precise. I didn´t know that at first as the sonnets he left at my parlour were only signed with a single _C._ I never suspected any partiality on his side, I…´ Elsie felt that uttering the next words were even harder then she had anticipated. ´I thought the sonnets came from you.´

Deciding that it would be most merciful on herself and probably him as well to get this wretched conversation over with as soon as possible, she pushed on. ´I know I have behaved rather…flirtatious towards you…´ saying it in his face added a whole new level of mortification to it, she discovered. ´I just wanted to make sure you knew I wasn´t… averse to… well, what I thought was your scheme.´

´You weren´t… averse to the idea of me wooing you?´ he asked, not believing his ears. Not believing he still possessed the ability to speak after the revelation she´d flung at him.

´I wasn´t…´ Elsie answered quietly, studying her shoes with great vigour. As the silence stretched between them and seemed to stretch for minutes she became desperate for anything to end it. And so she started to ramble.

´I know it was a gross error in judgement on my part. I should have invested the matter more closely before jumping to such ludicrous and wrong conclusions. I am…´

´Elsie,´ he tried.

´… am well aware of course that your feelings on the subject are vastly different from what they have been once. If you even remember them at all. I´m afraid I allowed myself to get caught up in my own foolish notions and I am…´

Elsie!´ he tried again.

´…am ashamed to remember how I behaved towards you. I assure a repetition of them will never again occur and I hope your perception of me will not be irrevocably altered by this…´

´Good grief woman, will you listen to me for a moment!´ he finally exclaimed frustrated, closing the distance between them and taking hold of her shoulders. ´Let me assure you that my feelings for you have not altered in the slightest these past fifteen years and that as such, I would very much like a repetition of your flirtatious behaviour…´

´Be careful what you wish for,´ she muttered darkly.

Any frustration left him and he laughed out loud, tenderly stroked the side of her face.

´Oh, believe me, I´m certain,´ he reassured her. ´It´s never been anyone else but you, Elsie. And in the last few months… you were right in what you said to Mrs Crawley. It´s wonderful to love someone and have them finally return your feelings.´

Unconsciously they had drifted closer together. Her hands had crept up over his chest, happy to be able to touch him again and his arm had found its way around her waist, pulling her closely against him. His other hand was cupping her face, his thumb tracing her lips.

´I love you,´ she whispered against his thumb. The love and devotion shining from his eyes made her legs wobble and she happily leaned in to him. He tilted her head and lowered his own.

´Did you lock the door?´ she asked breathlessly as his lips were only an inch away from hers.

´I did,´ he breathed, inching closer still. ´Is Anna occupied somewhere?´

He felt rather then saw her smile. ´She´s overseeing the other housemaids in the ward.´

´Goo-´ he never bothered to finished the word as his lips finally touched hers. In the back of his mind he marvelled at the fact that he was kissing Elsie Hughes and that she was letting him. The arm around her waist was pulling her closer still and she was allowing it. He was stroking her neck with his fingers and she was letting him… Then the playful, flirtatious Elsie he had come to know and love deeply emerged and started to return his kiss and he stopped thinking all together.

* * *

><p>Isobel allowed herself to relax. Charles and Elsie still hadn´t returned to the ward and it had been thirty minutes now. That was probably just a good sign she reasoned. Her eyes scanned the room and spotted Dr Wellington across the ward, talking to Bates. The moment her eyes locked on him, he looked up. He gave her a mere of a smile, but she felt she didn´t need anything more. Because she found everything else in his eyes.<p>

´Merry Christmas, Nurse Crawley!´ young Jonathan Merrick cried happily, sweeping her up in a hug. She laughed out loud as she hugged him back. It finally felt like Christmas.

* * *

><p><em>AN: From now on the story will foccus a bit more on Anna and Mr Bates, although I won´t completely forget about the other pairings, don´t worry. The story is going to have 26 chapters at the rate it´s going now and I strive to have the whole thing written an published before September 18th. _


	16. Chapter 16

_A/N: Wow, yesterday I hit the 100 reviews, thank you so much everyone. Another HUGE thanks goes to my fantastic beta-reader _**stuckinpast**_, who apart from shifting the errors out, also helped me plot the final eleven chapters of the story.  
>Lots of AnnaJohn fluff this chapter. Enjoy it while it lasts...  
>And yes, I like his mother. A lot. Ever since she said ´Vera´ with so much disdain in her voice. <em>

**Chapter 16  
><strong>_March 1917_

Despite the war, the family had decided to go to Grantham House for a couple of weeks during the start of the Season, even if that Season would consist of vastly different activities than other years. They didn´t take as many servants as usual with them and John and Anna both felt glad to be among the few that were selected. They enjoyed the change of scenery and the relative freedom that staying at the Grantham house offered them. With the family away often they found that they had a lot of time to themselves to enjoy London. One evening, about a week before they were due to return to Downton, John asked Anna if she would accompany him on a visit to his mother on their shared day off later that week.

´Of course I would , I´d love to,´ Anna replied, bemused by the shy way he framed his question. ´If your mother doesn´t mind.´

´Mind?´ he repeated drily. ´She has asked after you in every single letter for the past two years. If I´d visit her and she found out you were in London as well and I didn´t bring you, she´d have my head!´

´Well, we can´t have that,´ Anna answered laughing. ´I´m rather fond of your head myself. I´ll come with you, then. Don´t you think Mr Carson would mind, though?´

´I don´t think he does,´ John replied. ´Besides, by then he will already be back at Downton. He had requested to return a few days earlier.´

´I know it´s an awful thing to say, but I´m not so sorry to see him go.´ Anna said honestly. `He´s been in a foul mood ever since we got here.´

´I noticed that too,´ John replied thoughtfully. ´Other years he didn´t seemed to mind the Season so much. Well I suppose he´s lucky we´re only staying here for four weeks then.´

* * *

><p>When the day of the visit came Anna had to admit she felt a little nervous. Their odd relationship was so normal to her now that she didn´t think twice about it anymore. But how would his mother react to it? He had once told her that his mother liked her, but she still couldn´t help but feel anxious.<p>

She hadn´t need to worry. Whatever his mother knew or suspected of their relationship, she never let on, she was just very happy to meet Anna properly. Soon they were drinking tea at the round table Anna remembered so well from last time, and quickly, and much to John´s embarrassment, the subject turned to stories from his childhood.

´He´s always had a lot of cheek,´ Mrs Bates told Anna, who suddenly knew where John got that twinkle in his eyes from. ´I remember one particular incident when he was thirteen years old…´

´Mother!´ John groaned, he looked at Anna hoping for a little mercy. ´Is there any way you do not want to hear this story?´

´Not a chance,´ Anna replied, grinning broadly and turning back to his mother, eager to hear the tale.

´Well…´ Mrs Bates started, obviously already enjoying herself. ´First you must know that we´re a rather Catholic household. One night a big storm was going over the city. It was a thunderstorm really and later we heard that quite a few houses had been hit by the lightening. My husband was outside, trying to tie up the shutters and I woke up John. I told him to come down to the living room and pray for our safety. Meanwhile I´d opened a bottle of holy water and was spraying it through the room, thinking it wouldn´t hurt…´

She was interrupted at that by a snort coming from John. ´Bear in mind that it was pitch-dark in the room and I was too terrified to light a candle,´ she continued as if there hadn´t been an interruption. ´Well, after an hour or so the storm lessened and my husband came back in. We said our graces and went to bed. The following morning…´

John decided to continue. ´The following morning I was woken by the sound of hearing my devout Catholic father swearing like a sailor.´

´He didn´t swear, John,´ his mother immediately came to his defence.

´He most certainly did,´ John insisted. ´He used a whole lot of words I never knew he knew. I rushed downstairs to find my mother on the threshold, doubled up in laughter…´

Giggling, Mrs Bates took over the story again. ´The bottle of holy water I´d opened in the night turned out to have been a bottle of red wine… the stains were everywhere.´

´How terrible!´ Anna exclaimed, her hands flying to her mouth.

´And then this smart mouth,´ with a nod of her head she indicated her son, ´says: ´Da, perhaps the good Lord has turned water into wine again!´

Anna collapsed in peals of laughter, quickly joined by Mrs Bates. John wrapped up the story. ´It was the first time I ever had to run for my life. And I´ve never ran faster.´

* * *

><p>Margaret Bates hadn´t felt this happy in a long time. Of course she always loved it when her son came to visit her, but in what she now referred to in her mind as ´the dark years´ she had always felt rather anxious about his visits as well. The happy-go-lucky, cheeky, kind-hearted boy he´d been growing up had vanished so completely after the war and had left her with a bitter, often spiteful and incredibly unhappy man who just couldn´t seem to bounce back. There had been times when she had honestly feared she would lose him to his grief. And if the war hadn´t been bad enough, there had been prison and the mines after that.<p>

When, three years ago, a pretty blonde-haired girl with a worried face had appeared on her doorstep, asking all sorts of questions about her John she had been rather bemused. And yet she had taken an almost instant liking to the girl who seemed to believe in her son so fiercely. She had wondered about it for days, the girl had never outright said she´d felt any partiality for her son, but it had been implied in every action.

When John had wrote her in the autumn of 1914 that she had actually managed to save him his post, hope has started to grow inside her. Just the thought that someone who obviously cared about her son was near him and supporting him had eased her heart a great deal. From that day on she had shamelessly started to pester her son with questions. At first it had seemed that whatever chance at happiness he had with her was doomed to fail. He wrote that he although he cared a great deal for her, he was bound to keep away from her. His letters from those months had almost been as bad as ´the dark years´. She could sense his struggle, his loneliness from every word he wrote.

But when the spring of 1915 came the tone of his letter had suddenly started to become lighter. He´d started to mention Anna in his letters. Casually at first, but she had grasped to it, praying that he would somehow allow her in, allow her to heal him somewhat. Then in April a long letter had come, longer then he had ever written before, in which he had poured out his heart. He finally acknowledged that he loved her – had loved her for a very long time. And that he was finally letting her love him as well.

His surrender to her love had been as fierce as his resistance of it. Within weeks she had started to see the difference. He was relaxed, joyful even, despite the occurrence of war. The teasing tone that had been absent from his letters for so long returned. Much to her happiness – and somewhat to her hilarity, she noticed he started to write in plural form more and more often.  
><em>´We took a walk to church together.´<em>  
><em>`We feel grateful to be able to relieve some of the suffering of the men who have fought so bravely for our country.´<em>  
><em>´We both hope your sore hip isn´t giving you too much trouble.´<em>

She watched, bemused and happy as he refilled their teacups, Anna insisting on helping him. He poured her tea, while she was busy filling his cup with milk and lots of sugar. Apparently her acceptance of him also covered his abominable sweet tooth.

* * *

><p>After lunch they set out for a walk, John founding himself eager to show Anna where he´d grown up. ´There used to be a sweetshop down there,´ he told her, indicating a narrow street, filled with shops and buildings. ´You could earn candy if you ran errands for Mr Dixon, the owner. Needless to say, he was never without volunteers. And there´s the school I went to. And the window near the alley I used to sneak out of there.´<p>

´You didn´t!´ Anna exclaimed, but not quite managing to hide her grin. ´You skipped school?´

´I did in my first years,´ John answered, shrugging slightly. ´The teacher we had back then was a nightmare. Sixty boys in a room and all he did was scream. Later we got another teacher. He was different. Strict and firm, but he managed order and he actually taught me a lot. I visited him occasionally, long after I left school. He died the year before I came to Downton.´

They made their way to a small rose garden at the end of the street, her hand tucked in the crook of his elbow, as was their custom now. It was still too early in the year for any of the roses to be in bloom, but it was quiet and peaceful there. ´It´s nice to see where you grew up,´ she told him.

´It´s nice to be able to show you,´ he told her fondly. He found he was having a hard time keeping his eyes off her. Or his hands, for that matter. This being her day off, she was wearing a cream coloured dress and her dark blue coat. He hadn´t seen the dress before, but then again, he didn´t often get to see her in something other than her uniform. Her hair was up, but not in as tight a bun a usual and a few loose tendrils fell across her face. It was very distracting, he decided. It took a lot of restraint not to reach out and touch them. It had gotten the point where he felt he should better keep his hand in his pocket.

She was beautiful. He had noticed the stares and glances of the men as they had walked to his mother´s house that morning. It had made him feel extremely possessive, and noticing the looks in their faces had done nothing to calm his own longing for her.

His restraint was wavering and it had been since December. The spring evening where he had finally confessed his love for her, had finally kissed her for the first – and only time had been almost two years ago. He could still remember what she tasted like, how it felt to hold her.

His behaviour had become more guarded of late. He had promised her he wouldn´t compromise her and he fully intended to keep that promise to the end, to the moment there were no more impediments for them to be together. Only he wasn´t one bit closer today to finding Vera then he was two years ago. And keeping his promise was beginning to take its toll. He became more careful in the way he spoke to her, making sure there weren´t alone together for a longer period of time in a secluded area, making sure he didn´t touch her too often.

Of course the more he held back, the more his desire for her grew. He despised the limbo they were in, this loving by half. It was madness. The most beautiful, wonderful woman loved him and was around him every day and he could only show her his love in words, but not in actions.

But today, he resolved he wouldn´t fret about it. He would enjoy the day and deal with his dilemma later. As if on cue, music filled the air and they both watched as a circus parade passed the rose garden. Apparently they had just arrived in the city and were trying to attract viewers to their show. Acrobats, clowns, jugglers and a big elephant were marching down the street, led by cheerful music and the booming voice of the leader of the troop, urging everyone to come and see.

´Oh John! Look at the monkey!´ Anna stood on her tiptoes and craned her neck to have a better look, holding on his arm for support. ´He even has his own little uniform!´

But he didn´t find dressed up animals nearly as interesting as the woman standing right next to him with her face glowing and her eyes sparkling.

`That was lovely,´ she told him, once the parade had passed by and the music was dying away. ´It must be nice, living in London with all its diversions.´

He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and by the time he realized he had agreed with himself not to do that his fingers were already stroking her hair. ´You´re beautiful,´ he told her seriously.

She blushed at that and he found it gratifying that he still possessed the ability to make her. It became impossible to move away, to stop his arms from sliding around her waist and back. Leaning closer he was still battling with himself when he caught a wisp of her scent – something sweet and flowery. And that became his undoing. He brushed her lips over hers and when he felt her responding immediately, he deepened the kiss, pulling her closely against him.

Soon the intensity of their kiss increased and he let his hands wander over her, over her back, her hips, her shoulders, he arms and finally back to her neck where he could stroke the only bit of exposed skin. How was it possible to miss someone who was around him every day? he wondered at the back of his mind. But that was exactly how he felt. He had missed her, missed holding her, missed kissing her, missed the physical aspect of their relationship. And finally having her in his arms felt like coming home.

´I love you… you know that I love you, don´t you?´ Anna asked, against his lips, her eyes still half-closed and her hand busy stroking and massaging his neck.

How he had missed her.

´I know… and I love you too. I love you so much,´ With his hands still on her waist he continued to place small kisses on and around her lips. ´I love you and you have made me so happy.´ His hand came up to stroke her face. ´I don´t think I´ve ever been happier then these two years with you… but I want more… I want to love you completely.´

´Together in every sense…´ she echoed the words from two years ago.

Nodding lovingly he continued. ´Once we are back at Downton, I´m going to ask Lord Grantham for his assistance in finding Vera. I need to be free from her to be yours.´

Beaming with happiness she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him warmly, shocking him in the progress. But within second he had caught up and took over, showing her once again all the passion and longing he had kept under lock for so long.

´We need to get back…´ she whispered eventually. ´Your mother won´t know where we are.´

´I think she does…´ he grinned, reluctantly breaking away from her. ´She was a bit too insistent we should _go for a nice stroll_.´

´How much does your mother knows about us?´ she asked curiously as they started to walk back to the house, him still holding her hand.

The soft look he gave her made her stomach flutter. ´She knows that I love you,´ he replied. ´She knows that you love me and she knows I´m going to marry you the moment I ´m able to.´

Her smile turned wide and carefree at his answer. ´I won´t be long now.´

* * *

><p>The train ride back to Downton was long and crowded, but Anna found she couldn´t care less. There was a joy inside her that threatened to bubble over at any given moment. She´d only have to look a John and she was ready to burst with happiness. The ways his eyes twinkled at her and how he was barely able to keep the grin from his face only increased her high spirits. She marvelled at the fact that he was actually going to ask his Lordship for help. He would never have done that two years ago. He would never have burdened him with his troubles. Now he did it without blinking. It was all going to be alright. Maybe he could be free within weeks and then their life could begin.<p>

She remembered his mother´s warm goodbye at the end of the visit a few days. As John had stepped into the hall to gather their coats she had hugged Anna tightly, tears glistering in her eyes. ´He loves you so much dearie, and bless you for loving him. You´ve made him very happy.´

When John had returned she had swallowed quickly and told her son briskly: ´You take good care of her!´

´I will, mother,´ he had answered, but looking straight at her.

So caught up had she been in her daydreams that she hardly noticed the train had arrived at the station. He helped her on the platform and then there was a lot of hustle and lugging with bags and suitcases before everyone was in a car back to the great house. When the car drove up the driveway Anna sighed happily. It was good to be home. Whatever happened, she would always have a soft spot in her heart for Downton. Despite it all there were so many happy memories there.

Once in the servants´ hall they were greeted by the staff that had remained behind.

`I´m so happy you´re back!´ Daisy told Anna, bouncing happily. ´Mrs Hughes has been in a terrible mood all the time you were gone.´  
>Hugging the girl back, pleased to notice she wasn´t as skinny and pale-looking anymore, Anna noticed from the corner of her eye that Carson took John apart. Detangling herself from Daisy she made her way over to the two men, just in time to hear Carson say:<p>

´… she came to the door, unannounced, and asked to see you.´

With a feeling of dread starting in the pit of her stomach, Anna watched as John turned pale at Carson´s next words:

´She claims to be your wife.´

* * *

><p><strong>As always, I´d love to hear what you think!<strong>


	17. Chapter 17

_A/N: So lots of angst for the up comming chapters... _

**Chapter 17  
><strong>_March 1917_

They had agreed to meet outside of the Grantham Arms. But John had already vowed to himself that he wouldn´t set a foot inside. He recognized her the moment he saw her. Her small posture, her raven black hair, her pale complexion. Only when he came closer, leaning heavily on his cane, he noticed the things that were different. She looked older. There were streaks of grey in her hair and lines in her face. Her eyes were different too. Harder. Colder.

He had wondered about how he would feel when he saw her again after all this time. After all, it had been nearly ten years since he last saw her. Would he feel anger or hatred? Or would some of the fondness he´d held for her once resurface? When he finally came eye to eye with her, he found that he didn´t feel anything at all. No anger, no affection. At most she was a memory of a life long gone. She could have been a perfect stranger. Only she was his wife.

´Vera.´ He spoke quietly.

´Hello John. It´s been a while.´

The silence hung between them, heavy and cold. Finally she indicated the pub with a jerk of her head. ´Do you want to go in?´

He shook his head decidedly. ´No. I quit drinking five years ago.´

Her eyes widened in surprise and she took in his appearance once more. ´Where do you suggest we go then?´

´We can walk to the chapel,´ he indicated a quiet road that lead away from the village with his cane. ´We´ll have some privacy too.´

They walked in tense, uncomfortable silence, his mind whirling with a thousand questions. Once they had left the village and couldn´t be overheard, he asked tersly.

´Why did you come back**,** Vera? After all this time. What do you want?´

´I am your wife.´ There was an almost triumphant note in her voice.

´It´s been ten years,´ he told her. ´I tried to find you, but you were nowhere to be found. Why did you return now?´

´I´ve been abroad,´ she answered. ´I´ve lived in France for a while. But now I´m back. You´re my husband in law, you´re obliged to care for me.´

He felt as if she had punched him in his stomach. Hard. ´You want to… resume our marriage?´ he asked incredulously.

´Yes, John.´ She sounded calm, almost calculated. ´That´s exactly what I want. From what I´ve heard Lord Grantham is a generous master. I´m sure he will allow you and your wife to live somewhere.´

´You cannot be serious,´ he whispered horrified. ´Do you remember what our marriage was like? How can you possibly want to go back to that?´

´It´s what I want,´ she answered simply.

´Do you still have… feelings for me?´ he asked. Realizing how incredulously it was, the moment the words left his mouth.

´Oh John…´ she laughed hollowly and without any humour. ´What do you think?´

He eyed her closely. ´You have changed, Vera.´

´I bloody well have!´ she spat, showing some emotion at last. ´I´ve had to fare for myself these past ten years, that changes a person, John Bates! You have no idea what I had to endure!´

´I want a divorce,´ he told her flatly. ´Our marriage was a mistake and you know that as well as I do. I want to move on with my life, Vera, and so should you.´

She shook her head just as vehemently. ´No. You abandoned me. You made my life miserable and you will make amends for it.´

´I abandoned you?´ he exclaimed. ´You are the one that took up and left! I couldn´t find you for ten years!´

´You went to prison!´ she shot back at him. ´How is that not abandoning me!´

´We both know how I ended up there!´ he cried furiously, not quite believing she was throwing that at him.

She eyed him , blinking for a second. Then she squared her shoulders. ´Well, we also both know how I came to do it.´

His shoulders slumped at that. ´Don´t do this,´ he pleaded softly. ´What can you possibly have to gain from continuing the charade of our marriage?´

She raised her chin defiantly. ´Everything!´

´Well, I will never consent to it,´ he declared. ´As far as I´m concerned our marriage is over. Has never really existed at all.´

´But how concerned are you with the good opinion of your employer?´ she whispered maliciously . ´And the good opinion of this village? You have no choice, John Bates. I am your wife, will always be your wife, whether you like it or not.´

She turned around and walked away from him, leaving him standing there with his mind reeling and his hands shaking.

* * *

><p>He hadn´t planned on doing it. Not just yet anyway. But it had happened and somehow it had felt right. He never knew how she had ever convinced him in joining her, but when Sybil had told him she´d been getting chauffeur´s lessons from one of the lorry drivers and that she´d wanted to practise driving the car up and down the driveway he had somehow – probably in a fit of temporarily insanity, agreed to join her.<p>

That´s why Matthew found himself sitting at the driver's seat, next to Sybil, who was driving the car rather manically up and down the driveway, an excited glint in her eyes.

Meanwhile he was certain he was going to die. Within the next five minutes. ´Watch out!´ he screamed as the large oak tree came dangerously and speedily nearer and Sybil showed no sign whatsoever of slowing down. On what felt the last possible second she yanked the steering wheel to the left, manoeuvring the car back on the gravel of the driveway, while his stomach remained behind several feet.

´I love driving!´ she exclaimed jubilantly.

´You´re going to get us killed!´ he exclaimed, when Sybil once again kicked the gas pedal, causing the car to shoot forwards.

Sybil threw her head back and let out a scream of delight. ´Is there anything more exciting?´

He found himself laughing and having a near-death experience at the same time. ´Woman, I didn´t survive Verdun to be finished off by you and your lethal vehicle!´ Stop the car!´

She threw him a sideway glance, causing the car to stray off the driveway once again. ´You´re not my husband, you can´t make me!´

´Marry me then!´ he yelled back, feeling his insides shake as the car hobbled through the grass. If he even survived the drive, the gardener was going to kill him, he thought wryly.

´No, I´m having too much fun driving!´ Sybil laughed over the roaring noise of the engine. Now they were nearing the extremely solid looking wall of Grantham House. Given the choice, he´d rather driven into the oak tree. Lord Grantham was sure to dig up his dead body and redo the job if they rammed into the ancient building.

´Please marry, Sybil!´ he was practically pleading now.

´Sorry, no…!´ Another last-second turn of the steering wheel prolonged his life for another few minutes. But suddenly he knew he wasn´t joking anymore. ´Sybil, stop the car!´

Something in his voice told her he was serious this time and she hit the brakes so abruptly they were both lurched forwards, causing him to bump his head against the front window. However, he paid no attention to it and turned to the woman sitting next to him. He was panting, sweating and somewhat blurry-eyed. But he had never been more sure of anything then of what he was about to do next.

´Sybil… he grasped her hands and held on them tightly. ´I´ll never ask you to give up anything you love… I´ll never ask you to hold back or be anyone else then who are… but please, marry me!´

´I will… I will… of course I will!´ Her arms were around him instantly and he kissed her properly and thoroughly for the first time.

His mother would get a good laugh out of this story, he reasoned. And _Cousin Violet_ – as he was allowed to call her now, would probably perish in horror.

* * *

><p>Not only Downton, but the entire village was talking about the return of Lord Grantham´s valet´s estranged wife. Vera had been staying at the inn above the Grantham Arms for only three days, but it seemed that everybody already knew who she was. And the excited whispers and gleeful gossip filled the streets rapidly. Vera had left no chance unused to tell anybody who´d listen how she was the victim of it all. As of consequence the entire neighbourhood was buzzing with tales. John Bates had left his wife ten years ago, leaving her penniless and without a roof over her head. He´d been convicted and sent to prison, but somehow had managed to get released after two years. His young wife, almost starved to death and only a breath away from the workhouse had started to wander, trying desperately to find a position. Eventually she had found a company of traveling merchants, who went from town to town, trying to sell their goods. They adopted her into their little troop and eventually they´d gone to France.<p>

Anna´s revulsion at the woman´s lies had reached its limit when she heard the conclusion of this vicious story: Vera was back. She had forgiven her husband and hoped he would reconcile with her. By the time she and John had returned from London the general opinion was already very much in Vera´s favour. John Bates was believed to be a very bad sort of man. He, who´d always had been regarded with some suspicion because of his limb, was now declared to be an utter scoundrel who could only redeem himself by becoming once again a loyal husband to Vera.

Inside the house the opinions were a bit more levelled. But since everyone had their own suspicions of their relationship, Anna found herself to be the object of much staring and whispering. She found the pity in everyone´s eyes the hardest to bear. Suddenly she understood why John had been so adamantly weary of it when he first came to Downton. It was noticeable in the hushed silences that fell whenever she entered a room, in the condescending stares and the well-meaning but patronizing words.

During the past few days she´d barely had the chance to talk to him. For a long time, everybody at Downton had accepted their odd understanding and left them at peace. Now they found themselves the object of constant scrutiny. She could barely look at him for a moment before she could feel the curious, watchful eyes of the rest of the household on them. From the few times she had been able to look at him for a few seconds together, she had seen that he looked haggard. He was pale, there were deep lines in his face and dark circles beneath his eyes. The shame that had been absent from his demeanour for so long had returned with full vengeance. He held himself more dejectedly, his shoulders slumped and his head downcast.

It caused Anna to feel physically sick with worry. Was Vera truly determined to win him back? But why? If John was unable to divorce her, where would that leave them? She could only hope that Vera would eventually tail off when she realized John would never return to her. But she couldn´t help feeling that she was somehow in arrears. Vera was John´s wife, where did that leave her in the eyes of the world? Their relationship, although more or less platonic, had been a well-guarded secret between them. Others may have guessed what was between them, but no-one knew for sure. There had been a certain comfort in this secrecy. They never had to account to anyone but themselves. They never had to face the censure of the world. Until now. And that censure was a harsh one: Vera belonged to John and Anna couldn´t make any claims on him.

Of course it didn´t take long before the rumours reached the family. Lord Grantham had always been defensive of his employee, but even he was now deeply torn about the course of action that ought to be taken. That Bates was married wasn´t news to him. But the level of gossip and its content shocked him. The whole affair reflected very poorly on the honour of Downton and consequently of the family. And in that regard Robert Crawley was still a man of the old ways. Any form of scandal, anything that would defame the name of Downton had to be nipped in the bud and stopped with any means possible.

On the other hand, he felt obliged to his valet. Out of gratitude because the man had saved his life. Out of guilt because he had abandoned him, wounded but alive in South Africa. And simply because of the strong bond that consisted between them and had only grown stronger over their latest dealings with Matthew.

And then there was Anna. Somehow she had managed to get mixed up in this complicated mess, making the scandal all the more greater. She too needed to be protected from the vicious gossip and he felt the responsibility keenly. He was determined to do so with causing as little damage as possible to her reputation or career. It was the least she deserved from him.

Eventually he came up with a solution. It was by no means ideal, perhaps it wouldn´t improve this unpleasant situation. But at least it would put a stop to all the rumours and gossip. He called Bates into the library and presented him with a way – in his opinion the only way of how this could be solved.

´Do the right thing by reconciling with your wife. The two of you can live in one of the cottages and you can stay on as my valet.´

John Bates stood perfectly still, his face a set mask. But his eyes were firm, inflexible. ´I cannot do that your Lordship. Vera and I have nothing left to build a marriage on.´

´What about your honour, man! She is your wife, you are bound to her. And she seems eager to let the past lie.´

´I will not reconcile with her.´ Gripping his cane tighter his voice became all the more determined.

´Then you leave me with no other choice then to dismiss you.´ Lord Grantham ran his hand over face, apparently displeased with the idea. ´Bates… I value you… but I cannot have a scandal involving you tarnish the reputation of this house or this family. Blimey… the whole village is talking about it!´

´I understand that, milord.´

´You do understand that I will have to dismiss Anna as well?´

John´s head shot up so fast it cracked. ´Why?´ he asked, a dangerous edge in his voice.

´Because all the rumours involve her as well!´ Lord Grantham shot back, angry himself now. ´For goodness sake, how could you do it? Take up with her when you are a married man!´

´I never…´ John found that his voice was shaking with fury. ´I am well aware I am a married man! It has guided my actions for the past five years. Would you honestly dismiss Anna?´

´Well… of course I would make sure she´d have another position. Perhaps I could convince Lady Edith to take her on as a ladies maid, or maybe she could go to my sister in London… I wouldn´t turn her in the street, not after everything she has done for me. And perhaps making a fresh start somewhere, where no one knows the gossip might be the kindest thing for her. But understand this, my duty lies first and foremost with this estate, I will not jeopardize the work of many generations by allowing it to be slandered now!´

A heavy, almost suffocating silence fell between them. Then Lord Grantham spoke again. ´You know where I stand. I expect you to have made your decision by the end of tomorrow.´

* * *

><p>At last they managed to sneak away together. They walked to the pound, a place where they knew they would have some semblance of privacy. His mind was made up. He knew where his duty lay. He knew that if he couldn´t – wasn´t allowed to love her and make her happy he could at least save her her post.<p>

The feeling of dread, of panic really that had been festering inside her since he´d asked her to walk to the pound with him almost bereft her of her capability to breath. And the fear that consumed her wasn´t caused by Vera, or by the rumours. It was caused by him. There was something in his look, or rather something missing from his look, that left her heart cold.

He had made up his mind, he had found the determination. But he found himself whole-heartily without courage. How was he to tell her? How was he to walk away from her? How was he going to break her heart? How was he going to break his own?

The trap had fallen and they were caught inside. But she was determined to find a way out of this situation. A way that would neither compromise his sense of honour or their love. There had to be a solution, there had to be a way out of this. There had to be.

´Anna… we… we have to…´ he couldn´t form the words. They caught in his throat, choking him, refusing to leave his mouth. ´we cannot… be together…´

´Yes! Yes we can!´ She could hear the desperation in her voice that should have been filled with conviction, with optimism. ´We´ll find a way… there has to be a way!´

He told her of Lord Grantham´s proposition, his ultimatum really, and she paled until even her lips were white.

´He cannot mean that… he will sack you if you don´t return to… _her_?.´

´He will sack you as well,´ he confessed. ´He is determined to end all the rumours as soon as possible. He doesn´t want a scandal. In a way I cannot even blame him… his duty is with his family.´

´He cannot impose on our lives this way!´ Anna cried furiously. ´I´m not giving up on you… on us… so that he can smooth over a little scandal. We are not owned. We´re free to live as we want!´

´But that´s just it… I´m not free! I´m not a free man, Anna.´ His voice was raw with anguish and his heart broke, shattering into a million pieces as the guilt took over and settled in, nestling itself in the familiar corners and nooks of his mind. ´As much as my marriage with Vera is an insult to the very institution of marriage, I am legally and morally bound to her. She will not agree to a divorce and apart from that it will take years, a decade maybe, until I have saved enough money to pay for one.´

´There has to be a way out,´ Anna whispered. But the trap had fallen indeed and the net was closing around them. She could feel it. In her mind she was turning in circles, desperate for a solution. But there was none. Tears started to roll down her cheeks and she brushed them away angrily. ´I don´t mind if the world condemns us…´

´Anna!´ He was around her instantly, brushing away her tears, taking her in his arms, holding her close. There was no more point in pretence, in restraint. He touched his forehead to hers, tears spilling down over his own cheeks now, mingling with hers. ´I love you… I love _you_…´ He kissed her, frantically, desperately, his grip on her tightening to the point he almost crushed her. ´I cannot bear to live without your love… without your smile…´

´Then don´t leave me… please don´t leave me…´ she begged, sobs wracking her body. She clung to him, her arms wrapped around his neck, grabbing fistfuls of his coat. He held her shivering body, inhaling her scent and imprinting the memory of her in his arms in his brain.

He had to be the strong one. He had to be the one to walk away. Taking her face in his hands he kissed her deeply, losing himself in her one last time. He gazed into her eyes, drowning for the final time, told her he loved her one more time. For the last. He detangled her arms from his neck and let them fall. She wrapped them around herself instantly, as if she couldn´t bear the coldness, the loss of his embrace. Like he couldn´t bear it. His heart was tearing itself away from hers and he could feel every vein, every cell as it was being destroyed.

He gripped his cane, his knuckles turning white. He took a step. Then another. He forced himself to tear his eyes away from her.

´John…´ her voice was hoarse, broken…

He willed himself not to look back. He took another step while his entire being screamed to return to her side, to take her in his arms. To hold on and never let go, regardless of the consequences. It was as if an invisible power was pulling him back, making it almost impossible for him to move away from her. Every step was a fight, but he took them. Another and yet another. Until he couldn´t hear her sobs any more, but just his own.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18  
><strong>_April 1917_

It had been a month since he had left. Every time Anna passed the men´s corridor she felt the emptiness of the place. She never realised how soothing the idea of them living under the same roof was to her state of mind until he was gone. Lord Grantham, eager to sort the situation out, had managed to have a cottage ready by the end of the same week they had returned from London. And a day later John and Vera were living there.

John arrived at Downton every morning, right after the servants' breakfast**,** and went straight up to his Lordship´s dressing room. Usually they managed to stay out of each other´s way for most of the day. When she heard the sound of his cane on the marble tiles of the corridor she turned and moved to the opposite direction. Her heart tightened every time she remembered the times when she would have hurried towards him to greet him, so that they could have a few minutes in each other´s company. She had found new routines to make sure she avoided him as much as possible. She no longer did her mending in the servants´ hall, but took it to the ward, where she would sit with some of the soldiers and sew. It was a bit unorthodox perhaps, but Mrs Crawley said she didn´t mind. Half the time she even joined her, having a task at hand herself, like winding bandages.

The dinners were the most painful. She couldn´t avoid him then, although as by unspoken agreement, they both tried to put as much distance between them as possible. At the first evening after he had moved to the village, the moment they had both arrived at dinner at the same time had been painstakingly awkward. They had been sitting next together for years and neither of them knew how to proceed. He had lingered back, looking unsure around the room, leaving the first choice to her. She had sat down in her usual spot, what else could she do? Mercifully – and a little surprisingly it had been Daisy who had helped them out. Coming from the kitchen she had watched their interaction with a worried face until she´d dried her hands on her apron and tried to look cheerful.

´Anna, do you mind if I sit next to you?´ she´d asked, indicating the spot John used to sit in. ´I´m tired of having only Miss O´Brien to talk to.´

´O-of course not,´ she had stammered her reply as Daisy had slid in the seat next to her while John moved to the place Daisy had been sitting until then, at the other far end of the table. On the one hand she had been grateful for Daisy thoughtfulness, on the other hand it caused her heart to break even more, realising that once again she was forced to give up some the ´together´ they had shared.

Mrs Hughes had been another surprise. Somehow Anna had found an ally in the older woman. Whenever possible, Mrs Hughes would found excuses for either of them not to attend dinner. During the first weeks when there still had been a lot of gossip circulating between the servants, Mrs Hughes had told off anyone who dared to mention anything in her presence. Anna found that by being under the protection of the housekeeper her reputation and position as head housemaid remained more or less unscratched. Apart from that, Mrs Hughes had started to give her some tasks and responsibilities that went above the rank of head housemaid. Once she had told Anna that if she kept up her good performance she was well on her way to become a housekeeper and Anna supposed her training had started without any mention of it. Sometimes she wondered if she could bear it, being in service for the rest of her life. It had never been her intention. She´d always believed she would marry and raise her own family, in her own home. But now that she couldn´t picture herself with any other man then John, the thought of becoming a housekeeper wasn´t so gruesome. Grey perhaps and lonely, but not all together gruesome.

Of course, that was how she tried to rationalise the situation during the day. During the long, sleepless nights, it was a different matter altogether. She would toss and turn, cry and sometimes ready to scream in frustration for the agony of it all. She would never be happy as a housekeeper. Perhaps in five years from now people would refer to her as Mrs Smith and she would be the spinster, the old maid… the person young maids vowed themselves never to become.

Had it only been six weeks ago when she and John had stood in that rose garden in London? When they had kissed and laughed, when he had told her that he loved her, promised her they would be together?

During those long nights she had come to face to face with every emotion. She had been angry with him. So very angry that he had given in so soon, far too soon for her liking. She knew he would never want to be responsible for her dismissal, she could even love him for it, but at the same time she wished he had been more resistant.

At other times the desperation of their situation had griped her. Even if he hadn´t returned to Vera, even if they had been dismissed together, there wouldn´t have been a happy ending for them. They would have had to find new positions and the chance that they would have been hired at the same place was very unlikely. And with Vera refusing a divorce they couldn´t be together anyway. Would the two years they had together be all they were to have? She had always firmly believed that somehow they would make it work. Now that hope seemed so foolish, so entirely unfounded. He was married. His wife had returned and had claimed him back. How could she ever change that?

Should she even be willing to change that? Once their relationship had become the juiciest piece of gossip on town, a sense of nervous shame had started to fill her. Although she knew most people added facts and circumstances to their relationship that never had happened, she couldn´t help but wonder how she would have reacted if she´d heard a similar story. _The girl had been involved with a married man for over two years, all that time fully well knowing that he was. What was she thinking? What did she expect from him? Didn´t she have any self –respect_**,**_ to become involved with a man that belonged to someone else?_ She knew that was how people talked about her. And if she were in their shoes and if she hadn´t known anything of the circumstances, wouldn´t she have felt the same way?

She hadn´t cried this much in all her life. The grief sometimes seemed to overtake her and once alone she found she couldn´t stop crying. Her cheeks were red and tender from it and her eyes hurt most of the time. And during the times she was surrounded by people, or when she saw him in the distance, her heart continued to cry silently.

Even in a house full of people she felt lonely. Inside her mind she stood alone on a dark marshland. Alone and cold. Alone and abandoned. People passed her, people talked to her, but she felt detached from it all. As if where was a whole stretch of nothing between where she ended and the rest of the world began.

She was just sick of it. Sick of missing him, sick of wanting him. Sick of avoiding him, sick of being angry witht him, sick of having lost her best friend, sick of not being able to just look in his eyes or smile at him. Sick of knowing there was no hope for them, no way out.

* * *

><p>The news of Matthew and Sybil´s engagement had filled the house with a nervous excitement and a buzz of activity. The wedding date was set in the last week of May and it seemed to turn the whole house in uproar. Partly because the happy couple was completely oblivious to all the stress of the preparations and were just busy being happy and in love. The reactions to their betrothal had varied from happy ones to overjoyed once. The two of them took great amusement in trying to figure out who was happier: her father or his mother.<p>

However, the question who was more surprised was more easily settled. Isobel had noticed that a bound had started to form between, perhaps even before they themselves did. Nevertheless she couldn´t have been more pleased. As Matthew had predicted, the story of how he ended up proposing to Sybil had her laughing for – quite literally – days. And judging from the grins he received from the housekeeper shortly after he´d told his mother, she was well informed as well.

To Robert their engagement came as a complete shock. A very welcome one at that, but he still needed a full evening to wrap his mind around the fact that things had progressed between them so fast that they´d decided to spend the rest of their lives together. Yet he couldn´t have been more overjoyed. His heir was marrying his daughter after all. It was the next best thing to having a son – a grandson who would inherit the estate.

Sir Anthony and Lady Edith came to offer their congratulations. Edith accompanied hers by bestowing a long laundry list of proper conduct, suitable occupations and appropriate priorities now that her youngest sister was an engaged woman. Sybil listened politely to her talk, kissed her cheek affectionately when their time had come to return home and went out to ask Matthew if he wanted to take another drive with her.

She took it upon herself to write the news of her engagement to Matthew to Mary. And the anticipation she felt during the weeks she waited for the reply were the only damper on her otherwise happy mood. In the end she hadn´t have to fret about it: Mary wrote a long, heartfelt, genuinely happy letter back, inviting them to come to New York for their honeymoon and stay at Park Avenue.

* * *

><p><em>Home<em>, John thought, a sarcastic smile forming on his lips as he turned the corner and the cottage where he now lived with Vera came in sight. It was certainly a nice cottage to live in, the improvements that had been done to it a few years back on Mr Crawley´s initiative had seen to that. And would he have lived there with Anna, the cottage would have been a palace to him. It would have been heaven. It would be home. He tried to force his thoughts away from her. In order not to lose his sanity completely, he had made a pact with himself not to dwell on thoughts of what could have been. But despite his best efforts, he couldn´t drive her from his mind. Anna was so etched in his thoughts and in his heart that to expel her from them was simply impossible. His heart belonged to her as much as it ever had and every moment that he spent divided from her, knowing that he could never be with her again was pure agony. The pain didn´t diminish, it only appeared to grow stronger.

At the house he avoided her as much as he could, feeling it was the least he could do for her. But sometimes, despite his best intentions, despite his self-control and the pact he had made, he couldn´t help himself. He watched her as she talked with Mrs Hughes or Mrs Crawley. He watched her as she went on with her duties, swiftly and energetically. She always seemed to be in a hurry these days. He knew she was hurting, hurting so deep that it ate at him. The easy peace and cheerfulness that always seemed to hung around her had disappeared. She never laughed and barely ever smiled anymore. He noticed the dark circles around her eyes and wondered if she had as much trouble sleeping as he had. Knowing that he had caused this, knowing that he had broken the heart of the one woman he had vowed to make happy, filled him with guilt and a greater pain then the pain he was experiencing from their separation himself.

When he was at Downton, her presence haunted him, being so near to her but unable to reach out and touch her, or even talk or smile to her. By the end of the day it always became unbearable and he would feel ready to flee, even if it meant going back to the house he shared with Vera. But when he´d spend a few hours in the hell that was his private life, all he wanted was to go back to her. Just to see her, just to be near to her. A rare stray of lightness in the dark pit that was his life now.

He could tell the moment he stepped over the threshold that Vera was in one of her moods again. He had quickly learned to read the signs again.

´You´re home early!´ she scowled by way of greeting. It still baffled him that a woman who had gone through such great lengths to convince an entire village that she was desperate to be reconciled with her estranged husband, could be so full of hatred the moment they found themselves alone.

´I´m only here for dinner. The family is out tonight. I´ll have to return tonight though, ´he replied in the calmest voice he could muster. He had also vowed to himself that he wasn´t going to turn into the same bastard towards her as before.

´Well, you´ll have to fend for yourself… I´m certainly not going to prepare you your dinner!´ Vera spat at him, a furious glint in her eyes.

He willed himself to be courteous, to be gentle. She was his wife after all, she deserved his respect, his kindness. She was entitled to it. ´I remember you used to make delicious scrambled eggs. Is there any way I can convince you?´ he tried to keep his tone light and easy, hoping to placate her.

Vera stood frozen for a moment, her eyes widening slightly, breathing deeply. Then she practically launched at him: ´If you want a bloody maid you should stay at that house! I am not your cook, John Bates!´

´No, but last time I checked you insisted on being my wife!´ he cut back.

Cursing himself for letting his tongue get away with him again he watched as Vera turned red with fury. Wherever she had been, whatever she had done, it had done nothing for her temper, he thought warily as he watched her shout at him, trying with all his might to block out the words.

He noticed it too late. Or perhaps his reflexes weren´t what they had been once anymore. She had turned in a flash and grabbed the pan standing on the stove. He didn´t have time to say anything to calm her or to make her see reason.

He could only duck as she threw the pan at him with full force, all the while screaming abuse at him.

* * *

><p>´Will that be all, Milady?´ Anna asked kindly as she put down the hairbrush on Lady Sybil´s dressing table.<p>

´No, actually… I wanted to ask you something, Anna,´ Sybil replied, eying the other woman closely. She had heard the rumours and one only had to take one look at Anna´s face to know that they were true. Sybil felt a deep sense of sympathy towards her, knowing only too well how much it hurt to lose someone you loved so deeply. It had actually been Mrs Hughes´ idea, but Sybil had agreed with her instantly that this might be just the thing to rise Anna´s spirits from her bitter disappointment.

´Yes Milady?´ Slightly bewildered Anna waited.

´As you know Matthew and I will go to New York for our honeymoon,´ Sybil told her, her eyes sparkling happily. ´We´ll be visiting Lady Mary and her husband. If was wondering if you would like to accompany us as my Lady´s maid? I´ve already asked mama and she says it´s fine. We´ll be leaving right after the wedding and will stay the month of June!´

´I -´ Anna couldn´t help but blink a few times. New York. Away from Downton for a while. Away from John… her decision was reached instantly. ´Yes, I´d love to Milady, thank you!´

´Wonderful!´ Sybil beamed relieved. ´I was so afraid you would say no… I´ve heard Mrs Hughes is trying to turn you into a housekeeper, but I do think you need to see the world before you do that!´

Anna forced herself to smile. ´Well, New York will certainly be an adventure. And I´m very honoured you thought of me.´

´Nonsense,´ Sybil waved her hand impatiently. ´You´ve earned it! And it´s going to be wonderful! Like you said… an adventure.´

When she closed the door of Lady´s Sybil´s bedroom a few minutes later Anna rather wondered if her hasty decision had been a wise one. She would see New York, who would ever have thought? But not to see John for several weeks? The thought made her feel incredibly relieved and unspeakably sad at the same time.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: I´ve never been to New York, but I really would like to go sometime... can you tell?_

**Chapter 19  
><strong>_June 1917_

New York, especially New York in early summer, was beautiful, Anna mused as she returned from her daily stroll around the area of Park Avenue. She loved her walks. It gave her some much needed solitude and she enjoyed exploring the city she was in. The first thing she had noticed after her arrival were the enormous buildings. She always felt rather small if she walked passed those gigantic ten-story or higher buildings. After the first day her neck had actually hurt from craning so much. No wonder they called ´the greatest city of the world.´ She drank in the atmosphere in the streets, chatted to newspaper boys and fruit cart vendors and found out how New York wasn´t only a geographical place to be, but also very much a state of mind. She had been brought up in a world where everyone´s role seemed fixed, destined by birth. There was the aristocracy, the middle-class and there were servants. And they simply didn´t mix. She remembered her friend Gwen and her dream of becoming a secretary. She had admired her for having a dream, and supported her, but she also knew full well that it was frowned upon by many others. She knew Gwen´s parents had never gotten used to the idea of their daughter working at an office, believing, much as Gwen had feared, that she ´had gotten above herself.´ And she could only remember too well the shocked expressions on the faces of Mr Carson, Mrs Hughes and Miss O´Brien. As if having a dream, or wanting something better for yourself out of life was a crime. But in New York this was a trait to be admired and encouraged. The paper boy truly believed he would one day be rich enough to buy his own Rolls Royce. And the fruit cart vendor was convinced his children would have a better life than him. It was such an atmosphere of hope and possibilities that it thrilled her. It seemed everything was possible, if you just believed hard enough. It wasn´t easy, the paper boy was out on the street from early morning until late at night and the fruit cart vendor looked exhausted and worn-out most of the time. But they had a chance and they were taking advantage of it fully.

Sometimes she wondered if things would be more different for John and her here in New York then back in England. She missed him terribly. She missed him so much it hurt. She thought it would be easier if she went away from him for a while, but her feeling of relief had lasted for exactly half an hour. By the time she´d arrived at the harbour she was already aching to go back. And when the ship had sailed she had almost cried with desperation, simply not able to bear being so far from him. She´d suffered violently from seasickness the entire trip and when she had finally set foot in America she had wanted nothing more than to simply crawl back home.

She knew she hadn´t been fully able to hide her distress from Lady Sybil. Her worried looks and concerned voice had been obvious. And although she tried with all her might to put on her brave face as to not to distress the happiness of the young woman, she knew she only succeeded partly at that. She was heartbroken for the world to see.

And even if she recovered her health quickly once she had land under her feet again and started to enjoy being in New York, she still missed him. Not an hour went by in which not something happened she wished she could share with him. Something that would make him laugh as well or just something she would like to hear his thoughts about. She longed to see him or to hear his voice even if it would only be for the briefest moment. She longed to go back home, knowing at the same time that upon her return nothing would have changed and it would probably hurt even more. But her heart wouldn´t waver, wouldn´t be reasoned with. It just wanted the man it loved.

* * *

><p>´Hi Mary,´ Sybil greeted her sister softly as she entered the parlour.<p>

Mary grinned back, opening her eyes. ´Well, you certainly have adapted to the American way of speaking.´

´It sounds nice,´ Sybil replied carelessly, sitting down on the settee across Mary´s chaise longue.

Mary rolled her eyes at that. ´It´s one of those new things everybody is saying these days. I very much doubt that in five years' time anyone will still use that greeting. It´s a terribly working class expression at that,´ Sitting up with some difficulty, she stretched her limbs carefully.

´I didn´t wake you, did I?´ Sybil asked worriedly as she watched Mary rub her belly wearily.

´No, you didn´t darling, I was just resting my eyes. I never knew being pregnant was so exhausting.´ Sitting up a little straighter, her face became animated. ´So tell me about the wedding!´

´It was beautiful,´ Sybil told her. ´I wish you could have been there. They had decorated the church with flowers everywhere… I don´t think old Mr Moseley had a single flower left. Matthew was looking dashing in his dress uniform and papa was blinking the whole time he walked me down the aisle. I really think he was trying not to cry – did he cry at your wedding, Mary?´

´He did, quite openly. In relief,´ Mary said drily. When she saw Sybil´s shocked face she laughed to soften the remark. ´I dare say he was very happy on all three of our weddings. How…´ she paused for a moment and then continued. ´I`ve been wondering… but don´t feel you´re obliged to answer me… when did you fall in love with Matthew?´

A soft smile grazed Sybil´s lips as she stared in the distance for a moment. Her answer however surprised Mary greatly. ´Do you remember Tom Branson?´

´The chauffeur?´ Mary exclaimed. ´Yes I remember him. Didn´t you have something of a crush on him?´

´I loved him,´ Sybil answered pointedly. ´And when I heard he was killed at Verdun it broke my heart. For months I felt I was just in this great black pit all by myself, screaming my head off but there was no-one who could hear me. On the outward I tried to carry on as normal… I worked at the ward, tended to the wounded soldiers, tried to put on a brave face, but inside it felt like everything was broken.´ Sybil looked at her sister, noticing the haunted look in her large, brown eyes. ´Do you know how that feels?´

´Yes…´ Mary replied somewhat hoarse. ´I know how that feels. I- I know exactly how that feels.´

Sybil smiled, feeling somehow closer to her eldest sister than ever before. ´When Matthew came back from Verdun he was in bad shape – emotionally I mean,´ she continued her story. ´It took a while, but eventually he started to come back and we began to spend more time together. And with him I didn´t have to put on a brave face. I could be hurting. And I know he was hurting too. And something about that, perhaps because it was a shared burden, made it all easier to bear.´

A sudden smile lightened her face. ´He was the first one to make me laugh – really laugh in a long time. And I don´t know exactly when I fell in love with him but at one point I just knew that I had.´

She searched Mary´s face. Carefully. Anxiously. ´You really don´t mind, do you?´

´No, I don´t,´ Mary replied clearly. ´I´ve had my chance with Matthew, but I didn´t take it. And if I had to choose today between Matthew and George, I´d pick my husband. I´m happy with him, Sybil. I think it has all worked out just as it should have.

* * *

><p>He didn´t particularly like London. Manchester was a different matter. It was a smaller city and it was familiar, comfortable. London was always noise, crowded and often downright filthy. With a wary sigh, Timothy Wellington climbed the steps of the many stairs leading to his room in the boarding house he was currently residing. The staircase smelled of cabbage – again. Thanking his lucky stars once again that he was able to have a hot meal in the hospital and thus wasn´t subjected to Mrs Pearson´s variation of cooked cabbage every day<strong>,<strong> he pulled the key from the pocket of his coat and slid it in the lock.

´Dr Wellington!´ Mrs Pearson, tiny, beady and extremely near-sighted, held out a white envelope to him, waving it up and down like some sort of flag. ´You have another letter.´

He had already spotted it of course and any weariness or exhaustion he felt evaporated instantly. Holding out his hand eagerly he took the envelope from her, ´Thank you Mrs Pearson. I think I will retire instantly, so if you don´t mind I won´t come down for tea this evening.´

´Well…´ displeasure was written clearly over her features. ´I suppose I didn´t gain myself a very social lodger when I took you in.´

He knew she craved chatter. Nothing would make her more happy then to have all her lodgers around her during the evening in her parlour, sipping tea and gossiping. But selfish as it might be, he found himself more interested in his letter. Her letter.

´I´m afraid not, Mrs Pearson,´ he told her coldly. ´If you will excuse me now… Good evening.´

It was now six months since he had left Downton and had been relocated to the London hospital on East End. The effects of the war collided fiercely with the existing poverty and he felt himself drained after a day´s work from all the misery he´d seen. And yet, as the months went on, the place grew on him and he found it very gratifying to know that even if it was in only a small way, he was making a difference.

And then of course there were her letters to help him through. . Quickly entering his room, he discarded his coat, jacket and waistcoat and kicked of his shoes. Dressed in only his shirt and trousers he poured himself a glass of water and sat down at his desk. Not bothering with a paper-opener, he tugged his little finger underneath the rim of the envelope and ripped it open. To his delight he was able to pull a nice bundle of closely written pages from the envelope. Isobel wrote like she talked. And she could do it for six pages, front and back. Sitting down a bit more comfortable he started to read. He could actually hear her voice and picture her face and gesture in his mind. It was almost as if she was sitting across from him, talking to him. Almost, but not quite. After a read and re-read of her letter he carefully folded them back and put them with the stack of letters carefully hidden in his bureau drawer.

After he had changed for the night and stepped in his bed, he lay awake, staring in the darkness. She had kept her promise and had written him back. Tentatively at first, but over the months a steady correspondence had formed between the two of them, until they exchanged letters three, sometimes four times a week. He had gotten into the habit of writing her every day and posting the letters every few other days and she did the same. It gave him a sense of involvement in her life to hear from her so often and so detailed.

He had never expected to miss Downton as much as he did. Apart from Isobel, he also missed the bustle of the house. He had always considered himself to be a private man, but he found he had liked having people around him. He enjoyed his work immensely, but in the evening he went home to his boarding house, to the impertinent questions of Mrs Pearson, the smell of cabbage and his loneliness.

Sometimes he would give anything to be back at Downton, at his make-shift office near the ward, filling out status reports with Isobel. And if he was given that chance, he wouldn´t ruin it with his idiocy, he vowed himself firmly. He remembered how he had arrived at Downton a year and a half ago, angry that he hadn´t been allowed to go overseas and was send to this outward place instead. He had gotten the shock of his life when he´d found her standing there, smiling warmly, her hand outstretched. She remembered him well and greeted him as an acquaintance – a friend even. For a long moment he had only been able to stare at her, until somewhere in the back of his mind he´d realized he had to make some sort of remark, return her greeting somehow. And he completely panicked. He had grabbed the last remaining ounce of self-control he could muster and had turned away from her coldly, never noticing the bewildered looks of the people around them.

In the months that followed he had managed to keep up this cool exterior. But every day it had become harder on him. He had thought he loved her back in Manchester, but he quickly came to realize that it had been nothing more than an infatuation. Not until they worked together he found out how remarkable she was. His knowledge of medicine barely surpassed hers and she had the same amount of experience. In surgery they were highly compatible. He soon learned only half a word was enough, she seemed to read his thoughts.

All that time he had kept this façade of icy dislike up, the guilt towards his deceased friend still laming him. But he hadn´t been able to help himself from reaching out to her when he found her hurting or being hurt.

But then that kiss in his office had happened. For months he had berated himself about it, letting the guilt to mangle his memory of it. It had only been in the last few weeks that he allowed himself to remember what really had happened. She _had_ returned his kiss. She _had_ stayed in his arms willingly. Perhaps she would have returned his feelings if he´d offered.

Over the months she had confessed in her letters just how much she´d been hurt by his behaviour. She admitted her growing attraction towards him, but wrote him she wasn´t quite sure yet if it was something more substantial than that. And he was able to read between the lines. She wasn´t sure yet if she could fully trust him – how could she if he had barely ever been truly open with her? So he opened up to her in his letters. He told her the things he should have told her when he was still at Downton. Determined that if he ever got the chance to win her over he would take full advantage of it.

* * *

><p>Folding the letter with trembling hands Margaret Bates leaned back in her armchair and closed her eyes, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill.<p>

_Dear Mother, _

_How have you been lately? You wrote you are afraid of the Zeppelin raids and I can well imagine you are. Listen carefully for warnings and if worse comes to worst hide somewhere underground. I have been thinking, the Baileys have an ice-cellar, have they not? Please ask them if you can stay with them. _

_I am well. I have settled in my new routines and after some period of adjustment it works adequately. Vera and I still need to get used to living together again. We do not always see eye to eye, but that is to be expected after a separation of ten years. She has changed and so have I.  
>The cottage is very comfortable. It is on easy walking distance from the main house and I feel my leg benefits from the exercise. <em>

_In your last letter you asked after Anna. She is currently staying in New York, having accompanied young Mr and Mrs Crawley there on their honeymoon. She will be staying there for at least a month. _

_I hope your hip is not troubling you a great deal. I wish I could promise to visit you soon, but I am afraid I will be detained here for some time. Know that at least I think about you, _

_Your loving son,  
>John<em>

It was a polite, pleasant letter. But she could read all the things he wasn´t telling her. _After some period of adjustment it works adequately_ only meant that he had been completely miserable and still was_. Vera and I still need to get used to living together again somewhat_ was only a polite way of saying they´d been fighting like banshees. And by saying that Vera had changed she could well imagine that she was now an ever nastier than ever.

Her shock at the news that Vera Harris had returned – she still firmly refused to call her Vera Bates- and had claimed John back as her husband had quickly gave way to worry. And her concern grew with every letter of him she received. He wrote diligently and he never complained once. But it was because of this restraint he showed that she knew just how deeply her son was hurting, how desolate he was becoming. And she feared for him. He was strong and he was holding on, but for how long? For how long could he endure Vera? How long would it take before he would turn to the bottle again to relief some of suffering? And how was he ever going to get over having to give up Anna?

The tears that she had been trying to hold back came, unrestrained and unstoppable.

* * *

><p>Slowly John lowered the letter, smiling for the first time in months as he realized the implications of its content. It was nothing short of a miracle. And although it didn´t really involve him, although it didn´t change one jolt about the situation he found himself in, he was glad to know. Glad to know someone, or probably quite a lot of people would be very happy once they knew this. At least, he was certain, it would make Anna happy.<p>

* * *

><p><em>AN: A little bit of dr Wellington, to keep you going. I promise Isobel and he will have a chapter of their own soon!_


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: With this chapter I think I´ve explained everything there *is* to explain about John Bates, his past and his reasons... but if anyone had any questions left... _

**Chapter 20  
><strong>_June 1917_

Over the weeks it got worse. His patience had disappeared long ago and now John could feel his control slipping as well. They fought constantly, the causes irrelevant and insignificant until the many arguments just blurred together into one big, destructive struggle. She was still as hot-tempered as ever and after that first pan he had often found himself ducking for cover when in a white-blinding fit of rage she saw it fit to throw anything at him she could get her hands on.

And now they were standing opposite to each other once again.

´It was you who deserted me, you who left me there on my own, with no means to take care of myself!` she hissed, her voice low and her eyes shooting daggers at him.

It was the same old accusation and he wondered about it. Their marriage had been a disaster, there had been nothing there for either of them to gain and yet she constantly reproached him for leaving her. As if in being with her before he had provided her with anything.

´I didn´t leave you!´ he shouted back. ´But ever since I got arrested I never saw or heard from you again. You never even attended the trial!

´I went to the courthouse, you just never knew!´ she answered bitterly. ´You left me behind John, and no matter if you tried to find me after that it was too late – far too late.´

´The courthouse?´ he replied in bewilderment. ´I received a court martial. My trial was held at the barracks, didn´t you know?´

First she went pale at his words and then she turned scarlet red. Then she flew on him, her nails scratching his arms and her fist pounding on his shoulders and chest. ´You left me!´ she shrieked, her nostrils flaring. ´You left me all alone!´

Luckily she was a lot smaller than him and he managed to keep her off by using his free hand to push at her shoulder. ´Vera!´ he shouted over her screaming. ´Vera! What was I supposed to bloody do? I went to prison for the crime you committed, should I have told them it was you instead?´

She wailed a scream at that, not even making words anymore, just a scream of anguish and anger. Disgusted with the scene, disgusted with her he pushed her back. She fell to the ground and curled up in a pitiful ball. Her screams turning into whimpering sobs. ´You left… you left…´

Not knowing if she was simply acting, trying to work on his guilt or that she was genuinely hurt, he turned around and stormed out of the cottage, needing to get away from her. He marched into the shed behind the cottage and angrily threw his cane, his shoes, his jacket and his waistcoat in a corner. Falling heavily down on a make-shift bed of hay, a sheet and a few blankets he ran his shaking hands over his face.

He´d been sleeping there ever since their ´reunion´, not being able to stomach the idea of sharing his bed with her. As long as the summer lasted it would do, but he shuddered to think of what he was to do once the weather turned cold. Somewhat to his surprise Vera never commented on it. Apparently her eagerness to be his wife again did have limitations. He couldn´t make out her actions. The root of her anger seemed to lie in the fact that he supposedly had abandoned her. But he didn´t understand anything of it. In his believe it was her who´d ran away from him. He never heard from her again until three months ago. She hadn´t come to see him prison and after he´d been released she had disappeared. He had tried to find her during the four years after he´d been out of prison. Once he´d come to Downton he had let his search rest, until he became involved with Anna. He just didn´t understand her anger.

He was just exhausted, physically and emotionally. And the knowledge that there was no way out, that there was nothing that could relief his suffering made him feel as if he was suffocating. He had tried to face it, with braveness and dignity, but the desperation started to overtake him. He wasn´t living anymore, he was surviving. He might as well be death for the little of life that there was left. Only one time prior in his life he had felt the same, agonizing sensation of actually being more dead than alive.

After he had left prison and had been dishonourably discharged from the army he had spent another year in London, trying to find Vera and trying to find employment. But with his criminal record and his reputation of being a drunkard they wouldn´t even hire him at the docks. So in the end he had gone to Aberfan to work in a coal mine. This dark, gloomy industrial town initially hadn´t become the place for him to get his life back together, but rather the place where he had doomed himself to waste the remainder of it away. From an occasional drinker to deal with his troubles he had turned into a drinker just for the sake of drinking. The local pub found a good customer in him, him spending there all his wages apart from what he had to pay for board.

He had hated the mines. Not so much the physical labour as the constant darkness and dirt. Within weeks his skin had turned a greyish pale from the lack of daylight and the all penetrating dirt of the coals had covered his entire being. He felt he couldn't touch anything anymore without leaving a stain. He´d been buried alive there, more death then alive actually. Two years passed in a blur of drinking and hang-overs until the accident.

The accident had been entirely his own fault. Drinking himself into a state the night before, not leaving the pub until three in the morning he had woken with a splitting headache, a stomach that wouldn´t be able to hold food in until at least that evening and the loss of coordination of his limbs. He´d gone down anyway, not being able to lose his job and the foreman had send him up on the scaffold. He´d began to work, trying to ignore the hammering in his head or the nauseating feeling in his stomach. But he hadn´t been able to concentrate at all. He still couldn´t remember what actually had happened but somehow he had lost his balance and had fallen down from the nine feet high scaffold. His bad leg had hit ground first and the rest of his body had fallen on top of it. Because of the fall, the piece of shrapnel that had still been inside his knee, a souvenir from South Africa had moved and penetrated his kneecap. Even through his drink-induced haze he could still remember the excruciating pain.

They had taken him up, the transportation on a unstable stretcher, going up on steep ladders being one of the most physically painful experiences of his life. He was brought to the hospital and had surgery again to control the damage done to his knee. Only this time the damage had been quite beyond repair. When he woke up he was told by the surgeon that his leg would never again be able to support him fully and that he would have to use a crane from that moment on to move about.

Revalidation had been painful, his body being in a far worse condition then it had been when he had been shot years earlier in South Africa. That´s when he had vowed himself to lay off the drink forever. It had been hard. Very hard. It took all of his self-control and during the past years he had very little practice of it. But he had managed. And he could with some pride acknowledge that he had never once lapsed back. The state of his leg prevented him from returning to his job at the mine. For six months after the accident he got by, by taking every job he could think of and was within his capabilities. But it was a struggle. He never could hold on to something permanent and he started to fear he would spend the rest of his life in a state of poverty and semi-unemployment.

Then Lord Grantham´s letter had come, sent forward by his mother, who offered him the post of valet if he was interested. It was a God send offer and he took it with both hands. He took the train to Downton the moment he had settled his affairs in Aberfan, arriving a day too early, just so eager to start his new life again.

He´d walked into the kitchen entrance, was greeted by the disdain of Miss O´Brien and the curiosity of Mrs Hughes. He hadn´t mind, had gotten used to it long ago. In a way it was no different from what he thought of himself. His real greeting, his real welcome had come from a beautiful, golden-haired woman who had offered him her hand, her smile and her instant support. His life suddenly had meaning again.

After the mines, after the struggles he had endured just to make a living for himself, he couldn´t face the possibility of losing his job again. When Lord Grantham had dismissed him a few months after his first arrival at Downton he had been devastated, fearing the hopelessness of unemployment. He had cried the night before his supposed leaving, wondering where on earth he would end up.

She´d come to him that night, bringing him food and encouragement. She´d told him to write to her, to let her know how he was faring. Just knowing there was a soul in the world, apart from his mother who cared two jots whether he was alive or dead had warmed his heart. He remembered her standing there on the threshold of his room, nervous, worried, a little embarrassed and smiled in the night. It all seemed like lifetime ago.

He would – was going through great lengths to hold on to his job. His or anybody else´s for that matter. It was the reason he had never gone as far as to have Thomas or O´Brien sacked for their actions. Having lived through it himself, he would never do that to another human being. He would do anything to save Anna´s job, not wanting her to face even an inch of the trouble he had endured by being turned out on the streets. There simply wasn´t any other way.

* * *

><p>´Anna!´ Mary popped her head around the door, looking rather desperate.<p>

´Yes Lady Mary,´ Anna replied, stopping in the mid of the hallway.

´Could you help me out? My lady´s maid handed in her notice this morning and now she´s nowhere to be found. And I need to get ready for the Pierson´s party.´

´Of course I´ll help you get dressed,´ Anna agreed easily, following Mary in her dressing room. Within second she fell into her old routine of dressing Lady Mary. Carefully tying the laces of her corset she smiled when Mary remarked: ´You´re a lot kinder then Clarke ever was, she used to pull until I was sure I would go straight into labour.´

Anna shivered and giggled at the same time. ´Wearing your corset too tight just can´t be right for the baby, I think. Was Miss Clarke´s resignation a big surprise to you?´

´A very big one,´ Mary replied, frowning slightly. ´Apparently she wants to get married. I can´t imagine she only decided it this morning, so why she didn´t deem it fit to tell me earlier is beyond me.´ Sitting down at the dressing table so that Anna could fix her hair she continued: ´Now I have to go through the tedious process of finding a new Lady´s maid.´

´Would you consider me, Milady?´ Anna asked before she could think. Mary turned around so quickly her hairdo was completely ruined by the suddenness of the movement. ´Would you like to stay here?´ she asked incredulously.

´Well… yes,´ Anna replied after some thought. ´I like New York, I would very much like to work for you again and I have no real ties back in England…´ her voice only caught a little. ´There´s no one there to go back to.´

´It would be the perfect solution,´ Mary replied, looking considerably brighter. ´I´ll have to talk it over with Sybil of course, I wouldn´t want to rob her of her Lady´s maid. But I´ll definitely consider it.´

* * *

><p>Sybil had promised her mother to visit the graves of deceased family members of her side when she got to New York and that was how one morning she and Matthew set off to Cypress Hills National Cemetery to pay her respects to the grandparents, aunts and uncles and cousins she had never knew. It was a nice, sunny morning and despite the location, she fully enjoyed walking over the slightly curving paths of the cemetery on the arm of her husband.<p>

Her husband. Sometimes she still couldn´t believe they were actually married. They had been blissfully happy these past weeks, enjoying each other´s company and basking in their love. She couldn´t believe how much had happened in such a short amount of time. His return from Verdun had been less than a year ago, but he had unrecognizably changed since then. He loved her unconditionally and unrestrained and she sometimes felt a little overwhelmed by it. She had truly found the man who loved her for who she was.

She had watched her elder sisters in their marital state and how they had taken the lead from their husbands. Mary had followed George to New York, because that was where his life was. And although she was happy here, Sybil could tell from the conversations they´d had over the past weeks that she often felt homesick as well and missed Britain and Downton. Edith had become Lady Edith Strallan, leaving Edith Crawley, the middle daughter behind her. She was completely absorbed in her new role, her new responsibilities and Sybil was happy for her that she had found a purpose in life, a life she could call her own, but she also thought to herself sometimes that Edith too had become an extension of her husband.

She had vowed to herself never to become one. She couldn´t bear the thought of giving up her independence, her individuality. For a long time she had thought she simply wasn´t fit for a marriage. Until Matthew. She had been in love with him when he proposed to her and his words had stuck something deep inside. She could see him as the only man – perhaps apart from Tom – who could live with her desire to be just herself, instead of to conform to society´s standards.

It wasn´t until their engagement and now their marriage she found out how truthful he had been that day he proposed to her. He was happy to let be whatever she wanted to be. Whether she wished to become more involved with the suffragettes or to continue to work at the ward at Downton or the hospital, she always had his fullest support. She only had to be herself to make him happy and she felt she loved more each day because of it.

Resting her head against his shoulder while they walked, her hand on his elbow, she smiled softly. He stopped and looked at her imploringly. ´What?´ he asked softly.

´Nothing,´ she replied, looking in his eyes and smiling warming. Standing on her tiptoes she pressed her lips to his. ´I love you.´

´I love you too,´ he answered, his blue eyes shining with admiration. His smile turned a little shy. ´Sometimes I still can´t believe we´re actually married,´ he told her.

´Me neither,´ she laughed happily, wrapping her arms around his neck. He kissed her properly this time, not caring if anyone saw them.

After a while they continued their walk, strolling passed tombstones and memorials, idly reading the names and inscriptions. But suddenly Sybil stopped death in her tracks, gasping slightly.

´What is it?´ Matthew asked alarmed.

´Look!´ Sybil pointed towards a tombstone, her voice turning into a whisper. ´Read the inscription!´

It was a simple grey stone. In front of it stood a small vase with fresh flowers. The words on it only read:

_Vera Bates  
><em>_1875 - 1912_

* * *

><p><strong>So, what do you think? <strong>


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! I admit, I really like posting yesterday´s chapter. Here´s today´s installment! _

**Chapter 21  
><strong>_July 1917_

´Still, I don´t think it means anything,´ Matthew tried to reason with his excited wife. ´Vera Bates isn´t that much of an uncommon name.´

´But the dates match, Matthew,´ Sybil cried, walking up and down the guestroom energetically. ´Both the date of her birth and the date of her death. She would have died when Mr Bates was still in prison, or just gotten out of it.´

´But how did she end up in New York?´ Matthew asked doubtfully, shaking his head. ´Admit it, Sybil, it´s all too much of a coincidence.´

´Exactly,´ Sybil replied, unmoved. ´Far too much of a coincidence. Don´t you think it´s odd that Vera Bates – if it is indeed Vera Bates, turns up in Downton after ten years in search of her husband?´

´How do you know all this?´ Matthew asked bewildered.

Sybil shrugged. ´Remember Catherine? She´s a nurse at Downton. She likes to gossip. A lot.´ With a determined glint in her eyes she continued, ´I really want to get to the bottom of this, Matthew. Something doesn´t sound quite right with this business.´

Knowing full well that there was no stopping his wife once she had decided she wanted something, Matthew sighed deeply. ´What do you want to do then? You can´t very much ask Vera Bates – either of them.´

´I´ll ask Anna what she knows of Mr Bates´ wife,´ Sybil said thoughtfully.

´Oh, please be careful Sybil,´ Matthew said, a worried expression crossing his face. ´Do think before you start to meddle in that girl´s life.´

´I will be careful,´ Sybil answered, not looking the least bit taken aback. ´But think about it, if the woman who is now with Mr Bates isn´t really his wife, shouldn´t she want to know?´

´It just…´ Matthew ran his hand through is hair, still looking thoroughly unconvinced. ´Sybil, it´s almost impossible that the woman who is now staying with Mr Bates isn´t his wife. He would have known. Wouldn´t you know if someone else claimed to be me?´

´Of course I would,´ Sybil replied, looking a little doubtful now herself. ´But our circumstances are very different. I don´t know what´s going on and I agree it´s a very odd business… but I need to find out. I owe it…´ her voice halted and unfinished sentence hung between them.

´Who do you owe?´ Matthew asked, ´why do you care so much, Sybil?´

´They love each other,´ Sybil told him quietly. ´Mr Bates and Anna… I think they´ve been in love for a very long time. And ever since his wife has returned Anna has been terribly unhappy. And- ´ she paused for a moment, searching for the right words. ´You might find this silly, but a year ago she saved my father´s life. I promised her then that if there was anything I could ever do to repay her I would. Maybe I´m seeing things that aren´t there, but if there´s a chance I can help them, I want to take it.´

Wrapping her in his arms, Matthew kissed the top of her head. ´It actually makes perfect sense. And you might say that in the same way I owe Bates for sorting me out the way he did.´ He drew back a little, a small glimmer appearing in his eyes. ´I´ve been thinking. There were flowers on the grave, so that means someone is still looking after it and perhaps mourning the death of Vera Bates. Maybe this person can tell us more.

* * *

><p>Watching her face in the reflection of the mirror, Sybil realised once again how deeply unhappy Anna was. Her face was gaunt and had gotten terribly thin over the past months. She went on with her duties quietly, her cheerful chatter and attentive questions gone.<p>

´Anna…´ she started tentatively. ´I´ve been wondering. Do you happen to know the name of Mr Bates´ wife?´

Before the confusion appeared, a look of such great pain and sadness swept over her face that Sybil could feel her heart clench, making her even more determined to find out the truth.

´It´s Vera,´ Anna replied in a quiet voice. ´Her name is Vera Bates.´

´I was actually wondering about her maiden name,´ Sybil pressed on, though hating to pry into something that was obviously so painful for the other woman.

Anna thought for a moment. ´It was Harris… Before she married Mr Bates her name was Vera Harris.´

´Thank you, Anna,´ Sybil replied softly. They were quiet for a while until Anna spoke again:

´Milady, I- I heard your sister is looking for a new Lady´s maid.´

´Why, yes she is, ´ Sybil replied frowning. ´Apparently her previous maid ran off to get married. Why do you mention it?´

´I have made it clear to Lady Mary that I am interested in the position. She said she would take it up with you and I wondered if she had done that already.´

Sybil´s reaction was very similar to Mary´s. She whirled around in her chair and looked at Anna, surprise clearly written over her face. ´You want to stay here?´

´Yes Milady,´ Anna answered calmly. ´I like New York and I would like to become a Lady´s maid. And Lady Mary will need the support with her baby due shortly.´

´But… but…´ you don´t want to return to England with us?´ Sybil asked bewildered.

´I don´t,´ Anna sounded gravely and very, very determined.

´But… you belong at Downton,´ Sybil´s mind was still reeling, desperately thinking of a way to make her change her mind, especially in the light of what she had discovered - and hoped to discover. ´Wouldn´t you miss it?´

´I – I would,´ Anna´s voice faltered momentarily. ´But I think the change would do me could.´

´I need to think about it,´ Sybil replied eventually, trying to buy more time. ´I´ll let you know later what I´ve decided.´

´I understand, Milady,´ Anna answered evenly. ´Goodnight then.´

* * *

><p>Once Anna had returned to her own room in the servants´ corridor the severity of her decision hit her. She would remain here, when Mr Crawley and Lady Sybil would return to England in little more than a fortnight. She would start anew here, trying to paste the pieces of her life back together somehow.<p>

Unbidden, the memory of her goodbye of Downton came to her mind. They had left early that evening, their ship leaving at nine ´o clock from the harbour. The entire household had lined up in front of the terrace of the main entrance. She had already said her goodbyes to Mrs Hughes and Mr Carson, feeling the lump in her throat tighten as she moved on.

He was last in line. When she finally reached him their eyes met. It was the first time they had looked at each other probably for months. His eyes had searched her face, a pained expression on his. ´Enjoy New York,´ he had told her softly, taking her hand in his for a moment.

´I will,´ she had answered, her voice quivering. Pulling her hand from his grasp she turned around, walking to the waiting car, feeling his eyes burn in her back and the tears in her eyes.

Crawling into her bed she covered her eyes with her arms and started to cry uncontrollably. It had been a final goodbye after all. She would never see him again.

* * *

><p>Matthew had taken it upon himself to try and find the person who´d been leaving on Vera Bates´ grave, or anyone who could tell them more about this woman. In the end, when his inquiries met with very little result, it was luck that helped him out. One day as he was walking on the cemetery, having just finished his talk with the groundkeeper in order to obtain more information, when he spotted a figure bended over Vera´s stone. Quickening his pace, he tried to calculate his movements so that he would come across the man by the time he had risen and was about to leave. He stepped up next to him and said in sympathetic voice: ´Was she your wife?´<p>

The man next to him turned his head, shocked out of his reverie. He paused for a moment and then shook his head. ´No… not really. But I loved her a great deal.´ There was an unmistakable Irish accent detectable in his voice.

´What about you?´ the man asked then. ´Is your wife here too?´

A sudden feeling of dread wrapped around his heart and Matthew shook his head vehemently. ´No… not at all. Thank goodness. Some family members of mine are buried here…´ he turned fully towards the man and held out his hand. ´I´m Matthew Crawley.´

´Jeremy O´Malley,´ the man introduced himself. ´You haven´t been here long, have you?´ he asked. ´You´re accent is still very British.´

´I´m not from around here,´ Matthew answered smiling, ´to tell you the truth, I´m here on my honeymoon.´

´Oh…´ the man solemnly tipped his hat. ´Congratulations.´

´Thank you,´ Matthew acknowledged before he continued. ´Mr O´Malley, I would like talk to you about a rather pressing matter. Would it be alright if my wife and I called on you later this day?´

Jeremy O´Malley looked visibly taken aback at the odd request. ´I suppose so…´ he answered hesitantly. ´I´m not in any kind of trouble, am I?´ he asked suspiciously.

´Not at all,´ Matthew assured him. ´Quite the contrary, it seems that you can provide us with some very valuable information. Shall we say around four this afternoon?´

O´Malley gave a still somewhat reluctant nod, but gave his address nevertheless. ´I must say, you´ve gotten me very curious, sir,´ he said as they parted. ´But come by and I try to help you anyway I can.´

* * *

><p>Jeremy O´Malley lived in an apartment on the third floor of a five-story building in Brooklyn. Once inside Sybil discreetly, but curiously looked around. The apartment was soberly furnished, with little knick-knacks or decorateion, making a obvious just a man lived here. They sat down around the table and O´Malley poured them strong coffee. Once he was seated as well he looked at his guests expectantly.<p>

´We were wondering if you could tell us a bit more about Vera Bates,´ Matthew started carefully.

´Why do you want to know?´ O´Malley asked, obviously still not trusting them completely.

Matthew and Sybil shared a glance between them. They had anticipated this question and had agreed on what to tell the man. ´We know some relations of Vera Bates,´ Sybil explained. ´Apparently she disappeared from London around ten years ago and no-one has heard from her since. These relations are worried about her. By coincidence we came upon her grave a few days ago and we hope you can tell us what has happened to her. `

´It was eight years ago,´ O´Malley replied. ´Vera came to New York eight years ago. We met on the boat.´ He smiled softly as the memories flooded back at him. ´She looked like she had been through hard times, but she never told me much about it. I liked her… she was Irish as well and a friendly face among strangers. And we were all in the same boat… literally, on our way to a new future. We stuck together, even after we arrived on Ellis Island. We both found jobs, I as a gardener, she in a shop. But money was tight, so we decided to find a place to live together.´ His smile turned a little rueful. ´She wasn´t very good with money, but I suppose we all have our deficiencies. We managed and after a while things got easier.

Vera and I really got along well. When I first met her she was nervous, almost afraid of her own shadow. But as time went on she became more at ease. She liked New York, she… well, she liked me and I liked her. We were happy together.´

´Did you ever marry?´ Sybil asked softly.

O´Malley shook his head, a look of regret passing over his features. ´No… we couldn´t. She was still married you see. Her husband was in London, but he was in prison. She´d come to New York to get away from him.´

Sybil opened her mouth to make a reply, to set the record straight, but under the table Matthew took hold of her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, so she closed it again. Instead Matthew asked: ´Was Bates her maiden name then?´

O´Malley shook his head. ´No… it was her husband´s name. She always said the best thing her husband did for her was to give her a new name. Her maiden name was Harris… or at least that was how she was called. She grew up in an orphanage you see. She was abandoned after she was born.´

´How terrible,´ Sybil whispered. Suddenly she felt a little ashamed of herself. She had pictured Vera Bates in her head as the culprit, but now she realized she knew very little of the life of the woman that had been John Bates´ wife once. Looking at Matthew she saw him nod, almost unnoticeable. In any case, the woman buried on Cypress Hills National Cemetery was indeed Bates´ wife beyond any doubt.

´Did she tell you anything else about her past?´ Matthew asked, trying to get as much information as possible. ´What orphanage did she grow up in?´

´That I do know,´ O´Malley replied. ´It was East London Orphan Asylum. But I´m afraid that´s all I can tell you. Vera didn´t like to talk about the past, she´d come to New York to start over. And I´m not one to ask many questions…´ A small grin appeared on his face. ´Unlike yourself.´

Matthew chuckled before replying: ´You must pardon me all this questioning. But I think that these relations I spoke of earlier will be glad to hear she found happiness here.´

A small cry from the back of the apartment startled all three of them. ´Excuse me,´ O´Malley said, getting to his feet. ´I will be back in a moment.´

When he returned a few minutes later he was carrying a small girl on his arms. She had dark brown, curly hair and a sleepy face. Upon noticing the strangers she hid her head in the crook of O´Malley´s neck and clung to him. ´She´s a little shy,´ O´Malley explained, sitting down again.

´And before you ask… Maisie is our daughter, she´s five years old now. Sadly enough Vera died giving birth to her.´

A heavy silence descended on the room. Sybil´s mind was reeling with all the revelations and she gazed at the little girl on O´Malley´s lap. Curiously Maisie peeked at her, but when Sybil smiled she hid her face again.

´Well..´ Matthew´s voice ended the silence and Sybil could tell he was as shaken as she was. ´We´ll have a lot to tell them when we get home.´

Still holding his daughter, O´Malley rose and walked to the china cabinet. Opening one of the glass doors he took out a small picture and handed it to Sybil. ´Maybe these relations would like to see what she looks like,´ he said by way of explanation.  
>The photo showed Maisie, smiling prettily, her dark curls shining.<p>

´Thank you,´ she said softly, ´I´m sure they will appreciate it.´

Not long after that they took their leave of Jeremy O´Malley and Maisie, who even dared to smile back at Sybil a little. Once back in the car, Sybil moved close to her husband, who wrapped his arms around her instantly. ´It does answer one question,´ she said softly, still gazing down at the small photo in her hands.

´But the question that remains is: who is the woman back in England who claims she´s Bates´ wife?´ Matthew finished for her.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


	22. Chapter 22

_A/N: Half an hour ago I finally finished the story... if everything goes as planned the final instalment will be on Thursday. But for now... some more angst. _

**Chapter 22  
><strong>_July 1917_

_Home after all_, Anna thought warily as she carried her suitcase into the servant´s hall. Lady Sybil had been adamant in her refusal of letting her stay in New York, claiming that she needed her services during the journey back. When Anna had been just as insistent in her wish to stay Lady Sybil had told her she was employed by Lord Grantham and that it was him she should offer her resignation to. There she had a point, Anna supposed, but she still resented it. She had finally accepted that John and her weren´t meant to be and that she needed a change in her life. She had finally found some semblance of peace. Returning would open up that wound again. Returning meant she would have to go through the pain of leaving him again.

Still, it was nice to feel welcome. Daisy hugged her enthusiastically and Mrs Hughes looked like she wanted to. ´We have a new housemaid,´ she informed Anna. ´Her name is Ethel. And believe me, I´ve been counting the days until you got back.´

Meanwhile Daisy babbled on happily. ´You haven´t heard the biggest bit of news, have you?´

´No, I suppose not,´ Anna answered absent-mindedly. Whatever this big news was, she was sure it wouldn´t interest her very much.´

´Miss O´Brien is walking out with a man!´ Daisy cried excitedly.

Or maybe this would.

´A real man?´ Anna asked incredulously. ´I mean-, what man?´

´It´s Dr Clarkson,´ Daisy lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ´He took her out on her free afternoon three times now. But they went all the way to Rippon, so nobody knows anything.´

´Is it true?´ Anna asked, looking for confirmation at Mrs Hughes. She rolled her eyes and nodded.

´Well I never…´ Anna muttered, intrigued despite everything. ´And how has this… sudden romance affected her?´

At the same time O´Brien´s booming voice could be heard from the hallway. ´Which blazing idiot has left all these suitcases in the hall? I almost broke my flaming neck!´

´Heaven help us,´ Mrs Hughes remarked drily, causing Anna to stifle her laugh in her hand.

Then the door to the servants´ hall opened and Anna could feel herself tense up when Mr Bates appeared in the opening. There was a hint of a wistful smile around his lips. ´How was New York?´ he asked softly.

´Very big,´ Anna replied quietly, her voice hoarse. ´But it was nice. And it was nice to see Lady Mary again.´

The atmosphere in the room suddenly seemed to have dropped considerably and it was noticeable to everyone present.

´I´m glad to hear that,´ he said bowing his head. The corner of his mouth trembled for an instant, then he turned around and left. Anna released the breath she´d been holding, feeling her heart race. Would there ever be a time when she would not be so affected by his mere presence? How was she ever going to survive working in the same house as him? How was she ever going to find some closure? She knew she would never manage. She had made her decision and she should better carry it out.

´Mrs Hughes,´ she called out. ´Could I speak to you for a moment?´

* * *

><p>Much to the surprise of her parents and his mother, a few days after their return from New York, Matthew and Sybil were already on their way to London. They had agreed on not telling anyone yet of their suspicions regarding Vera Bates, including Mr Bates himself, until they knew for sure.<p>

Sybil sighed deeply. She hated leaving people in the dark like this. She had to use ever power of persuasion she had to convince Anna to return to England with them and in the end she had simply ordered the other woman to do so. She hoped very much that their trip of today would provide them with all the answers they were looking for.

The East London Orphan Asylum, or London Orphan School as it was called these days was a tall, impressive building, almost resembling a Greek temple. Upon entering the building they were shown into a small waiting room. Through the glass window they watched lines of children pass quietly, all lead by a matron, dressed in a dark blue frock , white apron and white cap. The children looked well-fed and well-cared for. Their clothes, although completely similar were neat. The boys wore blouses and dungarees, the girls grey dresses. And yet there was something incredibly sad about the long lines of obedient, demurely looking children who all looked exactly the same. Sybil shuddered, realising once again how privileged her life had been.

´Mr and Mrs Crawley?´ a soft voice inquired. An elderly matron was standing on the threshold. Her hair and neck were completely covered by her white cap, showing only her face. ´My name is Mrs Brooke. I understand you have come to make inquiries after one of our wards?´

Both rising to their feet, Matthew nodded. ´Yes, although not one of your current wards. We want to know more about someone who stayed here quite a while ago. Her name was Vera Harris.´

A look of recognition instantly flickered across the Matron´s face. ´Ah Vera…´ she said softly. ´Yes, I remember her. I remember her very well indeed.´ Shaking her head as if to dislodge the memories she indicated the hall. ´Will you both follow me please? We´ll talk more comfortably in the parlour.´

The walk through the low-illuminated, sober halls of the orphanage did nothing for Sybil´s already anxious state of mind. She couldn´t understand why in a place where so many children lived the windows should be placed so high not even an adult could look outside. Once inside the parlour their tea was served by one of the elder orphan girls. She was obviously nervous, her hands shook as she poured the tea and she looked wide eyed at Sybil, almost drinking her in.

´Thank you, Bernadette,´ Mrs Brooke said, waving the girl off. Bernadette bobbed a curtsey and left the room, looking back at Sybil one last time.

´You spoke of Vera Harris in the past tense,´ Mrs Brooke said in her very quiet voice. ´Does that mean that she is no longer with us?´

´We found her grave in New York,´ Matthew told her. ´She emigrated there eight years ago.´

´I see,´ Mrs Brooke replied, her facial expression not giving anything away. ´The last thing I heard from her was that she had married a soldier. What would you like to know about her?´

Matthew and Sybil shared a look, realizing that honesty would probably be the best approach. ´That soldier is currently an employee of my father,´ Sybil told the woman. ´He has been estranged from his wife, from Vera, for almost ten years. Three months ago Vera returned all of sudden to claim her husband back. But when we were in New York last month we accidently came across a grave with her name on it. We talked to someone who had known her and we could determine that the woman who died in New York was in fact Vera Harris. Or Vera Bates. We only know Vera was brought to this orphanage in 1875 and we hope very much you can help us to discover who the woman is who claims to be Vera Bates.´

Mrs Brooke smiled sadly at Sybil´s story. ´I thank you for your honesty,´ she said eventually. ´And I in return will be equally honest with you. But I must warn you, it is a long story and not a very happy one.

I remember the night of 1875 well. I had just started working here and it was one of my first night shifts. One of those terrible autumn storms were going over the city and the it had been raining all night. Suddenly we heard the crying of a baby inside the Matron´s office. Only the cry didn´t come from within but from outside. I was send out and on the porch near the door I found this soaked, wriggling bundle of rags. I peered inside and I must confess I was rather shocked by what I saw. I picked them up…´

Sybil gasped audibly. ´_Them_… do you mean?´

Mrs Brooke nodded. ´Two girls were left at the orphanage that night.´

´Were they twins?´ Matthew asked, moving to the edge of his seat.

´We didn´t know that at first.´ Mrs Brooke continued. ´They were both so small. They were dirty, malnourished and ridden with lice. Nobody knew where they came from and there was nothing on them that could give their identity away. We called them Baby Small and Baby Little for weeks, until the court appointed them both to the care of the orphanage when it became clear that no one would step forward to claim them. Then we named them Vera and Marjory Harris. As they grew up it became rather obvious that they were indeed a twin. And very alike. Their characters were very different though. That´s how we managed to tell most of the time which one was Vera and which one was Marjory. But in appearance the one looked like the other´s mirror image.

I´ve always believed Marjory was the eldest, although I can never know for certain. She was the fiercest and very, very protective of her sister. Vera was more docile, although she could display quite the temperament. They both could. Marjory watched over her sister like a hawk, whenever one of the other children bullied or teased her she would flew at them, getting herself in all kinds of trouble.´

Mrs Brooke looked at Matthew and Sybil, her face thoughtful. ´You mentioned there was a woman claiming to be Vera Bates?´

Matthew nodded. ´There is, although now I´m inclined to assume that woman is in fact Marjory. Do you think that's possible?´

´Very much so,´ Mrs Brooke replied. ´I remember an occasion, several in fact when Marjory took punishment for Vera. Vera was rather sloppy and that is a trait that is very ill tolerated in an orphanage. She often was send to the Matron´s office on Sunday morning to receive a form of correction.´

Upon seeing Sybil´s horrified look, Mrs Brooke explained: ´We applied a ruler to their knuckles. Marjory was send in often too, for fighting, or insubordination, but she never seemed to care about the punishment. She would hold out her hand and never flinch once. But Vera was a different matter altogether. She had to be dragged in, kicking and screaming, making a spectacle as if she was being murdered. Their reactions were so different that we never doubted which girl took the punishment until one day we discovered by accident that Marjory often went for Vera, but mimicked her sisters´ reaction to perfection. We only found out because I had Vera with me once for an entire day and in the evening was told about the scene Vera had made when she was brought in to the office.´

Mrs Brooke shook her head. ´There were other situations as well. Marjory was so apt in pretending to be her sister that at times it looked like she almost _was_ Vera. So yes, I think it´s highly possible Marjory is pretending to Vera now.´

´But why?´ Matthew asked frowning. ´What can she have to gain from it?´

´That´s a question only she can answer,´ Mrs Brooke replied. ´But I can tell you what happened to Marjory and Vera when they got older.

All the time they were growing up, the sisters remained close, being almost inseparable. Vera hero-worshiped Marjory and thought the world of her. But Marjory was growing restless. The strict rules of the orphanage didn't match with her headstrong nature. One night, when the girls were fourteen years old, Marjory decided to escape. Every Wednesday night a truck would drive up at the back entrance to take the laundry to the launderette. The man always left the door open en Marjory knew that. Because the girls were sleeping at different dormitories at the time, she had told Vera to come to the door and tried to sneak out as well. She was already out and I assumed she spent a long time waiting for Vera, but Vera didn´t wake up. We discovered her the following morning, fully clothed in her bed and Marjory gone.

Vera was heartbroken after her sister had left. First she went hysteric and then she became withdrawn for weeks. You see, the bond between them was so strong. It wasn´t a bond between normal sisters, they simply couldn´t exist without each other. Or at least Vera couldn´t exist without Marjory. She remained apathetic for months. Barely talking or eating. She just moved about like a ghost. There was already talk of her being moved to the lunatic asylum when she started to come around. But she never was quite the same.´

Mrs Brooke studied the two people sitting across from her, deciding what she could tell them. ´I know many people don´t agree with me, but I believe the bond between twins can be very strong. Not always mind you, but in some cases. And in this case I feel that Vera and Marjory were two parts of the same soul. They couldn´t really function without each other. When Marjory left, to Vera it felt as if a part of herself had been ripped away and she never fully healed from it. Sometimes when people get that broken from life, they don´t heal in the right way and I think that´s what happened to Vera. Like I said, she was never the same. She was never very smart to begin with but now she started to withdraw more and more in her world of fantasies and daydreams. She shied away from every problem, every disagreeable situation. Of course she had never learned to deal with any problems because Marjory always solved everything for her. But now that Marjory was gone, the only way Vera could deal with a problem was by pretending it wasn´t there.

Four years later, when both girls were of age, Marjory returned to the orphanage to claim Vera. She looked like a real state, the clothes she wore, her attitude…´ Mrs Brooke shook her head. ´Honestly, I wouldn´t have been surprised if she got by by working the streets. We told her she couldn´t see Vera, that she wasn´t a proper guardian. Marjory yelled at us and caused a big scene, so in the end we drove her away. We send Vera to work with a family in Liverpool, trying to keep her as far away from Marjory as possible. Looking back I know we did them both a great wrong by keeping them apart. They needed each other in a way we could never understand. By the time Vera returned to London, Marjory was gone. I never knew what became of her.´

´She told everyone in Downton she went to France with a troop of traveling merchants,´ Sybil said softly. ´Perhaps that wasn´t a lie after all.´

´I know that what she did was wrong,´ Mrs Brooke´s voice turned almost pleading. ´Pretending to be Vera and deceiving that poor man like that. But please remember, she only sinned because people sinned against her.´

Matthew sighed deeply. ´We´ll have to talk to her. Maybe we can help her somehow. After what you´ve told me I don´t think I can judge her too harshly.´

´Me neither,´ Sybil agreed. ´We just need to find a way to make this right.´

* * *

><p><em>She was back. At least she was back.<em> That was the thought that stood out the most in John´s head while he carried on with his afternoon duties. When he had heard her voice that morning his heart had soared with happiness, despite everything. He had lingered outside the servants´ hall, just listening to her voice and her laugh. Despite missing her, despite the agony of being separated from her, her presence still made him happy. But when O´Brien had come bustling into the hallway, swearing and cursing as usual, he´d had no choice but to step in the room. The room had filled with tension instantly and his heart had squeezed painfully as he watched the smile fall from her face. And suddenly she had felt more lost to him then when she had been in New York.

Turning at the corner he almost walked into Mrs Hughes.

`I´m sorry,´ she apologized immediately. I wasn´t watching were I was going. Too deep in thought I´m afraid.´

´Are you alright, Mrs Hughes?´ he asked as he took in her frown and her worried expression.

´No, not really,´ she snapped and unless he was mistaken he could detect a small note of hostility in her voice. ´I had a conversation with Anna this morning. She is determined to hand in her resignation and return to New York to become a Lady´s maid to Lady Mary.´

She could have punched him for the pain her words caused him. ´Are you certain?´ he asked, his voice hoarse.

´She´s quite determined,´ Mrs Hughes replied, fixing him with a pointed glare. ´And I can´t blame her.´

* * *

><p>He found her in what had been Lady Sybil´s bedroom. Upon their marriage Mr Crawley and Lady Sybil had decided to remain at Downton, but move to the west wing of the house were they would have their own apartment. She was sorting through some items of clothing when he walked in and closed the door with a firm thud. Her eyes widened when she saw him.<p>

´Is it true?´ he demanded, his tone almost rough.

´What is?´ she asked, bewildered.

´Will you return to New York?´

´Oh- ´she lowered her eyes, biting her lip. ´Yes… I think I will. Lady Mary is looking for a Lady´s maid and… I liked New York.´

It wouldn´t change anything about his situation if she went or stayed, but somehow convincing her to stay became the most important thing in the world to him. Crossing the room he grabbed her shoulders and made her face him.

´Don´t go…´ he pleaded, his voice broken. ´Please don´t go…´

He was so near she could feel the warmth of his body, feel his scent wash over her. She only had to lean in a little and she would be in his arms again.

´No!´ she nearly screamed, pushing him away and moving around the bed, desperate to put some distance between them.

´I can´t do this anymore, John!´ She drew a shaking breath. ´Leaving you will break my heart, but so will staying here, seeing you every day, knowing that we´ll never be really together.´ Once again tears started to roll down her face.

´You´ve made your choice, John. Now let me make mine.´ More tears fell and she brushed them away furiously. ´I´m so sick of crying…´ her voice broke in a sob.

´Anna…´ he had never been able to see her cry. Crossing the distance between them once again he reached out to her. ´Oh love…´

She backed away from him. ´Don´t John… just go… please go…´

´Anna…´

´Go! Don´t make this so hard! Just go!´

And he went. Knowing he was the last person in the world who could ease her pain. Knowing she was hurting because of him. Over the months he had often felt that the situation just couldn´t become any worse. But it wasn't until now that he really reached his lowest point. Anna would leave him. Anna who had stood by him always, who had believed in them always had given up on them. From this moment on they were truly over. And whatever had remained of his heart shattered from the loss of it.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading!<strong>


	23. Chapter 23

_A/N: I know there´s been a lot of angst lately, but I promise, this is the last bit... tomorrow´s update will be a bit later then usual, since I´m stuck most of the evening at school for a PT-meeting.  
>I´ve moved the rating up to T for this chapter... some parts in Marjory´s are a bit mature and I´m kind of cautious about those things. <em>_  
>Also, please notice the date... otherwise the next chapters will make very little sense. <em>

**Chapter 23  
><strong>_Thursday 21__st__ July 1917_

Lord and Lady Grantham had gone to visit Sir Anthony and Lady Edith Strallan for a few days, allowing the staff of Downton to ease down a little, even though Mr Crawley and Sybil were still present. Both Carson and Mrs Hughes had taken the opportunity to take a few days off themselves, Mr Carson to visit a friend in London and Mrs Hughes to visit her sister. With them both gone, breakfast that morning was a bit more noisy and disorganized than usual.

´Where´s Mr Bates?´ the young houseboy, Eric, piped up over the bustling of crockery and knives and forks. ´I haven´t seen him at all yesterday.´

´Now that you mentioned it, neither have I,´ Daisy replied. ´Maybe he´s ill.´

´Or maybe his wife has finally finished him off,´ O´Brien muttered darkly.

Anna paid no attention to their talking, too caught up in her own misery. Their interlude in Lady Sybil´s room had been three days ago and they had studiously avoided each other since then. She literally hadn´t seen him in three days.

´Don´t be daft,´ Moseley replied irritated. ´Mr Bates has accompanied his Lordship of course.´

´Well, pardon me for breathing,´ O´Brien snapped back.

´Oh stop it, the two of you!´ Mrs Patmore yelled from the kitchen. ´You better get a move on, you still have Mr Crawley and Lady Sybil to look after.´ This scolding was immediately followed by another: ´Daisy! Daisy, get in here! We haven´t got all day, girl!´

´Yes Mrs Patmore,´ Daisy replied quickly, scurrying to her feet and hurrying into the kitchen.

* * *

><p>Matthew and Sybil had discussed it lengthy and had eventually decided to confront Mr Bates and Marjory at the same time with their findings. Settling themselves in the library after breakfast, Sybil couldn´t help but feel somewhat nervous about the upcoming conversation, while Matthew asked Ethel to go and fetch Mr and Mrs Bates.<p>

About twenty minutes later Ethel returned with the later.

´Where´s Mr Bates?´ Matthew asked impatiently, his nerves getting the better of him.

´You tell me,´ Marjory snapped back. ´I haven't seen him since the day before yesterday. ´

´Thank you Ethel, that will be all,´ Sybil told the maid quickly. She could practically see her ears grow. Looking at Matthew she saw him mouth ´Do you want to continue?´ at her and she nodded in reply. ´Let´s get this over with,´ she whispered back.

´Please take a seat,´ she told the angry woman calmly. From there, they´d agreed Matthew would take over. And Matthew decided to go straight for the kill.

´Why did you do it, Marjory?´

Marjory jumped from her chair so violently, the chair fell backwards, her face contorting in anger. ´What did you call me?´ she hissed.

´Well, isn´t your name Marjory Harris and are you not Vera Bates´ sister?´

´Who told you that?´ Marjory asked vehemently, her eyes narrowing dangerously. ´Wait, let me guess. That bastard of a husband of mine told you, so eager he is to get away from me and get it on with that blonde twig of his! Well, you can tell him that he can stuff it!´

´John Bates doesn´t know a thing yet,´ Matthew replied, his voice only rising slightly. ´We came across your sister´s grave in New York. Why are you pretending to be her, when your sister is dead and buried?´ The word were harsh and cutting he realized, but they had the desired effect. It ended Marjory´s denial immediately.

´Yes, she´s dead!´ she shrieked. ´My sister is dead. And it´s all because of John Bates!´

Matthew walked over to her, lifted the fallen chair and pushed Marjory down on it. Not unkindly he told her: ´You are going to sit and you are going to tell us what happened. We know you left the orphanage when you were fourteen and that Vera remained behind. Did you ever see Vera after that?´

Folding her arms over her chest, Marjory pursed her lips and shook her head. ´I never did,´ she grunted.

´Then what happened to you after you left?´ Sybil asked gently.

Marjory scowled at her. ´You´re such a fine lady, you could never imagine how a girl survives on the street. Can you see yourself walking down the streets at night, going with every bloke that will take you, to some dark, stinking alley…´ Upon seeing Sybil´s look of horror she smirked. ´No, I suppose you can´t.´

Determined not to let the woman shock her into distraction, Sybil focused on her next question. ´We also know you went back four years later to claim your sister, but were told you couldn´t take her with you.´

´My, you are informed, aren´t you?´ Marjory sneered. ´No, they wouldn't let me take Vera. In their eyes I was the worst kind of disgraced trash and Vera had to be protected from me.´ A look of great pain passed over her face. ´Those merciless hags never realised that Vera and I belonged together. They took her away from me, hid her somewhere, God knows where… and I never saw her again.´

´They sent her to Liverpool,´ Sybil told her softly. ´They found a position for her there with a family. She remained with them for quite some time.´

´Really?´ Marjory asked smiling a rueful smile. ´Well, I never got that far. Instead I returned to the streets, to my pimps, to the men who thought they could toss me dime and have their way with me. Boy where there wrong… men are so easily distracted… they all left without their wallets, their watches and whatever else I could get my hands on. Of course it didn´t take long before the cops were after me… that´s when I met those traveling merchants. They offered me their help, their protection and I took it. We ended up in France eventually.´

It was perhaps the most gruesome tale she had ever heard, but Sybil couldn´t help but feel heartily sorry for the woman sitting across from her. However Matthew still appeared outwardly unmoved. ´But why did you return and why did you pretend to be Vera? Did you knew she was dead?

´Yes, I bloody well knew that,´ Marjory spat, her anger resurfacing. ´I returned from France last year. I thought I wasn´t in danger of getting arrested anymore and I had some money to get by for a while. And I had to find Vera, I couldn´t bear to stay in France anymore. But when I returned I found that Vera was nowhere to be found. I´ve asked around everywhere. Eventually I found a man, who had been a janitor ten years ago. He remembered Vera… and her good for nothing husband John Bates. He told me what sort of man he had been. A soldier, always at the barracks or off to fight in some war, leaving Vera behind. Drunk most of the time as well… he told me how he´d heard them fight all the time, him saying all sorts of nasty things to her… and then he went and got himself in prison, abandoning Vera , so she had to take care of herself. The worthless bastard!´ she practically spat the last words, there was so much fury in her eyes, so much hatred that it shocked Matthew and Sybil to the core.

´Did you know why John Bates ended up in prison?´ Matthew asked.

Marjory shrugged and shook her head, not appearing to be very interested.

´He was convicted for stealing the regimental silverware,´ Matthew told her.

Marjory bristled at that. ´I´m not surprised.´

´Only,´ Matthew continued, ´It wasn´t Bates who stole the silver, it was Vera.´

´That´s a lie!´ Marjory cried furiously. ´Vera would never do that.´

´But she did,´ Matthew retorted calmly. ´I don´t know why, but I do know that she did it. She stole the silver, but Bates took the blame. He went to prison for the crime she committed.

´No… no…´ Marjory shook her head frantically. ´It was him, it was his fault!´

´In what caused her to come to do it he may have been to blame,´ Matthew replied. ´He hasn't told me much about his marriage to your sister, but from what I´ve heard it was a very unhappy match and they fought together a lot. But he is not so undeserving as you think.´

´I wanted to make him pay,´ Marjory whispered quietly. ´I wanted him to suffer as Vera had suffered. I knew Vera had gone to New York and died there, I found that out through the embassy. Then I discovered that John Bates worked for Lord Grantham at Downton and that the family was staying in London for the season. It wasn´t long before I found him and I followed him around for a couple of days. That´s how I discovered how I could take my revenge on him. How I could hurt him the most…´ an almost malicious glint had come to her eyes now.  
>´I watched him as he walked around with that woman… Anna… I watched them in some park, laughing together, kissing… I overheard him saying to her that he would marry her as soon as he would be free from Vera… and I vowed to myself he would never be free from her as long as I lived. So I came to Downton before he returned himself, I told everyone my sob-story and within days I had him exactly where I wanted. I made him pay…´ her voice sounded proud, triumphant. ´I made him pay for everything he has done to Vera, for all the hurt he has caused her, for making her die alone in a foreign land…´ Her malicious voice ended in a small cry.<p>

Carefully taking the photo of Maisie out of the pocket of her skirt, Sybil walked over to the woman and knelt down in front of her, forcing the woman to look at her.

´Marjory, Vera didn´t die alone or unloved. She went to New York and met a man there. His name is Jeremy O´Malley and we´ve met him. We met him at her grave, he leaves flowers for her every week and he loved her a great deal.´ Sybil watched as Marjory´s eyes became wide. ´They couldn´t get married, but they did live together and had a child together. Vera died giving birth to their daughter.´

´Vera has a daughter?´ Marjory asked hoarsely, gripping the armrests of her chair tightly.

´She has,´ Sybil replied, handing her the photograph. ´Her name is Maisie. She is five years old and she is beautiful.´

The change Marjory underwent when she looked at the small photo was enormous. All the hatred and anger left her and she started to sob uncontrollably. ´Vera… Vera… she looks just like Vera… Oh goodness… I never should have left her… I left her… I left her…´ she broke down completely then, sobbing and clinging to the picture. ´Vera… Vera…´

It took a while before she had calmed down enough to talk and Matthew found he still had some questions left to ask. ´How did you managed to make Bates believe you were Vera?´ he asked somewhat incredulous. ´I´m sure you two looked a lot alike, but how is it possible he never noticed?´

Marjory shrugged, looking somewhat helpless now that the fight had left her. ´It had been ten years and he noticed I had changed a lot. He commented on it often. But he never knew Vera had a sister, so the thought didn´t occurred to him. He also wasn´t very keen in… taking up his marital rights, so to speak. That helped as well to keep the charade going. There were a few times when he caught me on something I should have known, but didn´t. But then I just started a fight and he was none the wiser.´

Matthew shook his head, not trusting himself to make a reply. He tried to imagine what Bates´ life must have been like these past months, but he gave up quickly. It was too horrible to bear thinking about it. He looked at the woman sitting in front of him with dismay. How much hurt could one person inflict on someone else?

What´s going to happen to me now?´ Marjory asked in a small voice. She made a pitiful sight with her watery eyes, her red nose and her trembling lips.

Matthew and Sybil looked at each other, having discussed this as well. ´We´d like to make you a proposition,´ Matthew started. ´Would like to see your niece?´

´Yes…´ Marjory replied breathlessly. Yes I would.´

´We´ll arrange for you to go to New York,´ Matthew told her. ´We´ll arrange everything with migration and we give you some money to get started. We have family in New York that can help you to find your way, find a job, a place to live. Only there´s one condition: you´ll leave Downton and John Bates immediately and never bother him again!´

Marjory nodded eagerly, hope suddenly filling her eyes. ´I will… I´ll do anything you say, as long as I can be with Vera´s daughter.´

´Do you have any idea where Mr Bates is?´ Sybil asked her, remembering how she had said earlier that morning that she hadn´t seen him for two days.

A cloud passed over Marjory´s face. ´I haven´t,´ she replied, ´And… ´

´What?´ Matthew implored.

´I- I noticed him getting depressed over the last few days,´ Marjory began hesitantly. ´Especially since three days ago. He came home from Downton and he was completely desperate. I rejoiced in it, thinking I had finally gotten to him. He was gone the next morning. There was a note on the table saying he was going to finish off his business and wouldn´t return.´

Sybil´s eyes turned wide in horror. ´You don´t mean to say…´

Marjory had the decency to look remorseful. ´Like I said… he had become rather desperate...´

* * *

><p>Anna watched amused as one of the lorry drivers lingered in the servant´s hall, trying to get Daisy´s attention. When he finally managed it, he flushed a nice shade of scarlet and started to stammer. ´Hello Daisy… I was wondering when you´re next afternoon off was… perhaps we could go to the village together or something?´<p>

Looking slightly taken aback, Daisy blushed as well. ´Oh- hello Peter… I... well I…´ she appeared to hesitated for a moment, but then shook her head. ´No, I´m sorry, but I don´t think that´s a good idea.´

`Oh- alright.´ Obviously dejected, Peter bowed his head. ´I´ll guess I´ll see you around then,´ he muttered to his shoes and took off.

´You know,´ Anna said hesitantly after Peter had left, ´he´s a good boy.´

´I know,´ Daisy replied, gathering the cups and plates from the table.

´So what´s wrong then?´ Anna asked softly.

´He´s not William, that´s what´s wrong,´ Daisy answered.

´Oh Daisy…´ Anna sighed deeply. ´William is gone, it won´t do to waste your life away like this.´

´I know that,´ Daisy replied, looking at her levelly. ´I know William won´t come back. And one day I´ll be over him, but today is not that day. Today I´m not ready to move on yet.

´You know,´ she continued after some thought, ´I loved him so much and I know he loved me. And even if he´s gone now, even if we can never be together, just knowing that he loved me and that I loved him is enough comfort for me. I´m not in a hurry to get over him.´

Anna couldn´t help the tears that sprung to her eyes at Daisy´s words. ´When did you get so wise?´ she asked in a strangled voice.

´Did I?´ Daisy asked bewildered.

´Yes, you did!´ Anna laughed between her tears. ´Come on, you and me are going to have a cup of tea.´

´But what if Mrs Patmore comes looking for me because she needs me for something?´ Daisy asked anxiously.

´Then Mrs Patmore will very well have to wait,´ Anna said decidedly. ´Come on, sit down.´

They had just poured themselves a cup when Sybil came running into the servant´s hall, looking very distressed. ´Anna, thank goodness,` she panted. ´Come on up, quickly!´

Very worried now, Anna followed Sybil to the library where she was awaited by Matthew. ´Anna, do you know where Bates is?´ he asked the moment he saw her.

Anna blinked in surprise. ´He´s with his Lordship, visiting Sir Anthony and Lady Edith,´ she replied bewildered.

´No, he isn´t,´ Matthew answered, shaking his head. Lord Grantham didn´t need his services this time, because Sir Anthony´s valet would attend to him.´

´But he´s been gone since yesterday, ´ Anna said, frowning now as well. ´Have you asked Mrs Bates?´

´She was here just a few minutes ago,´ Sybil replied. ´He left her a note two days ago, informing her that he´d gone away to finish off his business and wouldn´t return.´

Anna´s eyes turned large with fear. ´What?´ she whispered, panic rising inside her.

´There´s more you don´t know,´ Matthew said. Within a few sentences he told Anna everything they had discovered about Vera and Marjory. When he was finished, Anna was literally swaying on her feet, her hands covering her mouth and trembling in shock.

´She wasn´t Vera… he´s not married…?´ she whispered incredulously.

´He´s not,´ Matthew replied grimly. ´But he doesn´t know that yet and we better find him before he does something incredibly stupid. Do you have any idea where he could have gone?´

´Maybe to his mother,´ Anna replied, her mind reeling. ´His mother lives in London, that´s where he went. It´s the only place I can think of.´

´Do you know where in London she lives?´ Matthew asked hurriedly.

Anna nodded. ´I do, I went there with him a few months ago.´

´Alright, then we have to go to London as soon as possible. You´ll come with us,´ Matthew decided quickly.

´Matthew!´ Sybil exclaimed, clutching his arm, ´we can´t leave! Everyone is gone! My parents, your mother, Carson, Mrs Hughes… they´ve all left!´

´How is it possible everyone is gone at the same time?´ Matthew asked, irritated. ´Where did they all go to? We have to leave and soon at that!´

When no reply came, he thought feverently for a moment ´We can leave Moseley and Mrs Patmore in charge. It´s not ideal, but with everyone gone, how much damage can they do? We´ll go to London instantly by car, Sybil you can drive. We´ll be staying at the Grantham house and tell Moseley to telephone us the moment something is the matter.´

In the back of her mind Anna realised that one day Matthew Crawley would be a very capable Lord Grantham. But now most of her thoughts were focused on John.

´Right, we leave in half an hour,´ Matthew sounded oddly authoritarian all of a sudden. ´Pack whatever you need for a couple of days, I´ll tell Moseley to do the same. Meanwhile I´ll give him his instructions.´

* * *

><p>And indeed, within half an hour they were on the road, Sybil driving fully concentrated, as fast as she dared, Matthew sitting besides her. Anna sat in the backseat and found that she couldn´t stop her hands from trembling. Slowly her mind was going through everything she had heard.<p>

It wasn´t Vera. Vera was dead. John was free… but where was he? ´_This can´t be happening_,´ she whispered quietly. ´_It can´t end like this… not like this..´_ Fear gripped her heart, almost paralysing her.

They reached London in five and a half hours. It took another half hour to find a place to park the car, because there wasn´t any room near where Mrs Bates lived. But finally they reached her door.

Mrs Bates looked rather alarmed as the small invasion walked into her living room. ´Anna!´ she exclaimed. ´How wonderful to see you, dear!´ She grasped her hands and held on to them tightly. ´But what brings you here? Did anything happen to John?´ There was such an acute note of fear in her voice that it caused Anna´s throat to clench. ´I don´t know,´ she sobbed, unable to stop herself. ´Do you know where he is?´

Mrs Bates turned pale at her words. ´He isn´t at Downton, then?´ When Anna shook her head, she sank down on her armchair and began to tremble uncontrollably. ´This is what I feared…´ she stammered. ´He was so desperate.´

´Please, can you be a bit more specific, Mrs Bates,´ Matthew asked. After Anna had made the proper introductions, Mrs Bates took a letter from the side table and handed it to him. Sybil and Matthew read it together and then handed it down to Anna. Sinking down on a low stool near Mrs Bates´ chair, Anna read:

_´Dear Mother, _

_I cannot go on like this. One of these days I will not be able to control myself any longer and I will harm Vera. I honestly believe hell would be more merciful than this trap of a marriage. _

_Anna is going to leave. She will go back to New York to work as a Lady´s maid to one of the Earl´s daughters. I cannot blame her, how can I blame her from wanting to run away from all the pain and all the sadness I have caused her? I have broken her heart, Mother. I can see it in her face, every time she looks at me. Or doesn't look at me. I have destroyed her laugh, her happiness, her dreams. I did not believe I was capable of hurting another human being so badly, but I suppose I have underestimated my own capability of causing grief and heartache. _

_And the worst of it is that I can only selfishly think of how much I will miss her. Of how I will not be able to go on without her presence near me. I cannot bear to see her walk out of my life, fleeing away from me, fleeing from her home, from everything she holds dear. _

_I have tried to right the wrongs I have done, but instead I have only caused destruction. I don not know what to do anymore. _

_I love you,  
>John<em>

´Oh my goodness- John..´ Anna buried her face in her hands and cried as she could feel his pain and desperation. ´I told him to go away… he begged me not to go to New York, but I told him to go away…´ she sobbed frantically.

´Dearie…´ not caring anymore who was present, Mrs Bates placed her arm around the shoulder of the woman who she deeply wished to be her daughter-in-law. ´There was nothing else you could have done. He is married.´

´No, he isn´t!´ Anna cried. ´That´s just it.´

Matthew took it upon himself to explain to the distressed woman all they had discovered in the past weeks.

´Heaven help us,´ Mrs Bates whispered, shell shocked, as he was finished. ´There were two of them.´

After I got this letter I feared for him,´ Mrs Bates continued after some silence. ´But he´s been in dark places before and he always managed to find his way back. Although…´ she looked down at Anna´stear-stained face and gently squeezed her hand. ´Although I must say that he never before had so much to lose. But I don´t believe he would do anything… final. He won´t… not my John!´

Pulling her handkerchief from her pocket, Anna wiped her face and blew her nose. Shakily she got to her feet. ´If you don´t mind,´ she said a little weakly. ´I think I´d like to go for a walk… to clear my head a little.´ Upon seeing their worried faces she added with a small smile: ´I´ll be fine, I promise. And I won´t be gone for long.´

After she´d left, the other three occupants of the room stared at each other, their worry increasing by the minute.

´He won´t do anything…´ Mrs Bates repeated. ´He just won´t…´


	24. Chapter 24

_A/N: Those PT- meetings always take longer then I expect... but here we are *kicks off high heels and sinks down on couch* _

**Chapter 24  
><strong>_Wednesday 20th July 1917_

Making her way as quickly as she could while maintaining a shred of dignity, Isobel made her way through the streets of Rippon in the early morning light, thanking her lucky stars the notions shop was already open at this time. Arriving at the street where the inn she was staying in was located, she turned the corner without really watching where she was going and bumped straight into a solid form. The collision was rather forceful, causing her to stagger backwards. Thankfully a pair of strong hands immediately gripped her elbows to steady her.

´Thank you,´ she started gratefully. ´I´m very sorry, I wasn´t loo-´ It was only then she really looked up into the face of the man standing near her. Feeling her heart miss several beats, she stared incredulously, a blush spreading over her face.

´Timothy!´

´Isobel!´

To say he looked dazed would be an understatement. For a moment he looked as if he didn´t have enough eyes to take her in. His mouth slightly agape, he could only stare.

´What are you doing here?´ she asked a little breathlessly.

´I- I´ve attended a seminar on X-ray technology that was held here yesterday,´ he told her, finding it very hard to concentrate. It had been over six months. He had hoped to see her again, planned on visiting her, but now that he was standing in front of her so unexpectedly he found himself almost entirely lost for words. ´What about you?´ he managed eventually.

´I- oh goodness!´ Suddenly Isobel remembered the reason of her previous hurry. ´I need to go to Elsie- Mrs Hughes at once or she´ll have a nervous breakdown!´

´Mrs Hughes?´ he asked, raising his eyebrows and having a hard time imagining the housekeeper of Downton in such a state.

´Well, the best of us can falter under the pressure of a day like this,´ she replied somewhat cryptically. Despite her previous indication of haste, she was still standing in front of him, not moving a muscle, obviously torn. ´Do you have any plans for today?´ she eventually asked a little anxiously.

´Not really,´ he replied, somewhat surprised. ´I won´t be returning to London until tomorrow so I thought I´d explore the vicinity.´

She smiled in relief at this answer. ´Can you wait five minutes for me? I need to arrange something.´

´Of course,´ he replied, feeling the anticipation rise inside him.

´I´ll be right back,´ she promised him.

* * *

><p>Dashing inside the inn, Isobel made her way up to Elsie´s room on the first floor. Letting herself in with the key, she found Elsie standing in front of the floor-length mirror, cursing under her breath.<p>

´I´ve got it!´ she cried triumphant, holding out the yarn and parcel of needles.

´Thank heavens!´ Elsie sighed, the red spots in her neck betraying just how distressed she was. ´I can´t believe I tore my dress… today of all days.´

´Don´t worry, I´ll mend it and no-one will ever know. Least of all Charles,´ Isobel reassured her.

´Did you have to wait long for the shop to open?´ Elsie asked, stepping on a stool.

Isobel shook her head, trying to figure out how to voice her request. ´No… the shop was already open… I got distracted on the way back though…´

´What do you mean?´ Elsie asked, looking down imploringly, noticing her friends blush and dazed expression. ´Isobel, what happened?´

´I just ran into Timothy,´ Isobel breathed.

´What?´ Elsie cried ´Timothy Wellington? As in the man you´ve been writing your memoirs to for the past six months?´

´I´ve left him outside,´ Isobel informed her.

´You left-´ Elsie repeated incredulously. ´Why didn´t you ask him in? Invite him?

´I didn´t want to invite him without asking you first, after all it´s your big day,´ Isobel replied. ´I´ve asked him to wait for a bit.´

´Of course he can come!´ Elsie answered. ´Just ask him to join us!´

´Are you sure you or Charles won´t mind?´ Isobel asked again. ´You wanted to keep it small.´

´No, we don´t. ´ Elsie insisted, her voice turning gleeful. ´Besides, hurling my bouquet at you will be so much more fun now!´

* * *

><p>They all met right outside the church.<p>

´Mr Bates, thank you so much for coming.´ Elsie told him earnestly.

´Please don´t thank me,´ John replied sincerely. ´I was honoured Mr Carson asked me as his witness.´

´And nobody suspects a thing?´ Elsie asked again, a somewhat anxious note in her voice.

Reassuringly John shook his head. ´I haven´t told anyone… your secret is still safe. Only those present here know about it. Everyone at Downton thinks I´ve accompanied Lord Grantham.´  
>Looking back at Isobel and Timothy he asked with a slightly mischievous hint in his voice: ´Was Dr Wellington expected as well?´<p>

´No, Isobel bumped into him this morning. Quite literally,´ Elsie answered drily, watching as the two of them were still gazing at one another as if they couldn´t believe they were both there.

´By the looks of it, they still haven´t completely recovered,´ John commented, earning a snort from Elsie.

´I better go in to support Mr Carson,´ he continued. ´He was rather nervous a little while ago.´

Smiling rather nervously herself, Elsie watched him go in, resisting the urge to pinch herself to make sure it was really happening.

But it was really happening. Ten minutes later she found herself in front of the altar, standing next to Charles, listening to the booming voice of the vicar, reciting the words she had heard spoken many times before, but never spoken to her:

´Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God and in the presence of these witnesses to join Charles Carson and Elisabeth Mary Hughes in holy matrimony…´

It was really happening, Isobel realized. He was standing right next to her and every time she glanced at him she found his eyes on her, steady and unwavering. Something had changed in his look, in the way he looked at her, causing her heart to flutter nervously.

After the ceremony the bouquet hit her square in the eye.

* * *

><p>John had taken his leave of Mr and Mrs Carson – it would take some getting used to in his mind - as they set off on their honeymoon and had declined an offer of Dr Wellington and Mrs Crawley to join them for luncheon, barely able to hold in his grin. Now he was on the train to London and feeling indescribably better than he had two nights ago. He shuddered inwardly as he remembered how close he´d come.<p>

After his shattering conversation with Anna in Lady Sybil´s room and another blazing fight with Vera later that evening, he´d laid on his make-shift bed in the shed that night prey to the deepest feeling of desperation he had ever experienced. The darkness of the night had enfolded him to a point he was sure light didn´t even exist anymore. Eventually, giving up all pretence of trying to sleep, he had lit a little oil-lamp and had penned a letter to his mother, simply needing to share his pain with someone.

When morning had finally broken he had sealed the letter and dropped it at the post-office, without giving it much thought. He deeply regretted that now, realizing his mother would be out of her mind with worry once she got it. The day had dragged on like something dead: heavy, suffocating and endless. He didn´t even catch a glimpse of Anna all day.

That night he hadn´t been able to bear the thought of returning to the cottage, not even referring to it as home anymore. Instead he had walked to the Grantham Arms, purposefully and without hesitating once. Minutes later he´d found himself sitting at the bar, a whiskey in front of him. Only then some semblance of conscience had kicked in and he had stared long and hard at the glass for several minutes.

´You´re supposed to drink it,´ the gruff voice of the bartender had informed him.

´I haven´t had a sip in over five years,´ he´d replied hoarsely.

´So what changed?´

He´d shook his head, unable to form the words. But suddenly the whiskey had been taken away and been replaced with a steaming cup of strong coffee.

´You better have this instead then,´ He´d looked up to meet the sympathetic gaze of the Grantham Arms´ owner. ´There´s always a choice,´ he´d stated simply. ´Only question is, do you have the courage to make it?´

Three hours and five coffees later he´d left the place with a whole new perspective on his life. He would leave Vera and return to London, trying to find a job, trying to make a living and earn enough money to pay for a divorce, even if it took ten years or more. It would be hard, it would probably be impossible, but he refused to let this devastation go on any longer. Anna would probably go to New York and there was little he could do to stop her, but with her job secured, he could leave Downton without ruining her life even further. He would even send money to Vera every month if she´d take it, so she wouldn´t be able to accuse him again of leaving her penniless and homeless to fend for herself. He would take care of her financially, but he would also take the control over his life back. Whatever the consequence may be. He´d snuck into the cottage before dawn and had left Vera a note, telling her he would sort out his business, but wouldn´t return. Quickly grabbing some clothes and personal belongings, he´d taken the train to Rippon to be present at the wedding of Carson and Mrs Hughes, the butler having asked him weeks ago to be his witness. And now he would go to London to sort out one other thing, before he would start to look for a new job. The surprising letter he´d received a month ago burned in his pocket and he smiled softly.

* * *

><p>Sitting across from her at a small table at the teashop, Timothy couldn´t keep himself from staring. Because of the wedding she was wearing a very becoming, pearl-grey dress which brought out her eyes and the warm colour of her hair. Having for the most part recovered from the shock of seeing her so suddenly he resolved to make the most of the chance he was given.<p>

´How have you been?´ he asked softly. ´You wrote you´ve been busy.´

´I have,´ Isobel acknowledged, focussing a lot of attention on stirring her tea. She found that it was impossible to look at him for longer than a few seconds together, the intensity of his stare sending shivers down her spine. _Don´t be ridiculous, _she told herself, _you´re a little too old to be that nonsensical_. ´First there was the wedding, and then I decided to move back to Crawley house.´

´You moved back?´ he asked in surprise. ´Wouldn´t you have rather stayed at Downton?´

´I would have,´ Isobel replied with a small grin, ´but I decided to give Matthew and Sybil some space. I felt that living under the same roof with both _her _parents and _his _mother would be a bit… extreme.´

A full-dimpled laugh appeared on his face and Isobel forgot to breath for a few seconds. _Goodness, he´s handsome! Stop it!_ `But anyway,´ taking a much needed gasp of air, she continued, ´then Charles and Elsie decided to get married, which was completely wonderful of course. So between helping them plan their wedding and working at the ward I haven´t spent a single evening at home. And how have you been?´

He flashed her another grin_. Those dimples! Focus, Isobel!_ ´Well, like I wrote you, I´ve been working a lot of hours at the London hospital.´

´Do you like it there?´ she asked, remembering the tales in his letters about the devastating poverty and often gruesome situations he came across.

´Yes I do,´ he replied thoughtfully. ´Especially now that I have gotten more used to it. Somehow the people there have captured me. It´s hard work and sometimes very ungrateful, but the people there are full of surprises.´ He smiled as he remembered a particular incident.

´There was this mother with her son, I think he was about six years old. While she walked into the treatment room she was boxing his ears and yelling at him at the top of her lungs. I remember feeling very sorry for the lad. He had a swollen knee and could barely walk. I helped him on the table as carefully as I could, determined to show him some kindness. Very gently I stretched his knee, but he whimpered anyway and next thing I know the mother is nearly scratching my eyes out because I dared to hurt her boy.´

He joined her laughter and shook his head, his eyes shining warmly. ´It´s things like that make me like the people there so much. They never quite react the way you expect them to.´

Isobel was completely captivated by him. There was such a passion in his voice, such a dedication to his work and more importantly, the people he worked for. She knew from his letters how deeply he cared, but it was quite a different matter to hear him tell about it. In the year they´d worked together he had been so guarded, so aloof all the time, save for few instances, that she had never fully allowed herself to feel anything for him, although the attraction between them had been obvious. Now the man behind the warm letters and the man hiding behind his icy exterior finally melted together.

He handed her a plate with scones and she felt his fingers brush the back of her hand. It was only the lightest of touches, but she could feel the tingling sensation all through her body.

_Really Isobel, he has kissed you quite passionately before. You can handle a small touch. _

_Very clever. Start thinking about how he kissed you. _

_Concentrate. Not on his mouth. Good. _

´Do you plan on staying at London Hospital after the war?´ Isobel asked, deciding that his eyebrows were a more or less safe spot to look at.

´I would like to,´ he replied. ´I´ve done a lot of different things over the years, but this is one of the few places where I could actually see myself settle. I suppose I´ve never been one for a gentleman´s practise. I don´t want the fancy brass plate with my title on the front door. I´d rather have a waiting room filled with dock workers, worn-out mothers and wailing children.´ After some thought he added drily, ´and the excitement of not knowing whether your next patient will swing his knife at you or leave you with a living chicken out of sheer gratitude.´

He painted quite the picture. Tilting her head to the side, Isobel looked at him, a smile playing across her lips. ´You want the real life.´

´Exactly,´ he replied, his eyes locking with hers. ´And you?´

´When I grew up I hated the social functions and drawing room gatherings,´ she replied, her smile turning rueful. ´Sitting there, sipping tea and talking about the weather and the state of the roads. I´m not one to sit in a parlour and look pretty.´

´But you look beautiful in surgery,´ he told her. There was not a hint of flirting in his voice. He sounded very calm and collected, but it was the most genuine, straight forward compliment Isobel had ever received. And it left her completely flustered and at loss for words. He never took his eyes off her, but continue to hold her gaze, the hint of a smile on his face.

_Now would be a good time to say something witty. Or anything at all. At the very least stop grinning at him like a lunatic. _

´I never thought I´d see you speechless.´ Dimples appearing, his smile turned into a teasing grin. Reaching out across the table, he closed his hand around hers, his fingers curling around hers.

They left not long after that. In the cloakroom he helped her in her coat and Isobel quickly checked her appearance in the mirror, noticing the pink glow on her cheeks. Shaking her head inwardly at herself, she put on her gloves, her back turned to him. ´Will you stay at your boarding house if you remain in London?´ she asked, the thought occurring to her all of sudden.

´No!´ he replied rather forcefully. `I´m already looking for a place.´

Remembering the long tirades in his letters about his landlady and her preference for cabbage, Isobel smirked. ´Does she still try to get you to join her evening teas?´

´No, she has finally given up on me,´ he answered gratefully. ´I´m afraid I´ve been rather cold and curt with her and she took the hint eventually.´ Catching her raised eyebrow in the mirror, he added a little contrite, ´Well you know how I can get. It´s not my best trait, I´m afraid.´

´Well, count yourself lucky I love you regardless of it,´ she muttered drily.

It wasn´t until she heard his sharp intake of breath, she realized what she´d said. Feeling the heat creep up from her neck to her face, she turned around to meet his dark, piercing gaze.

_Oh very subtle, Isobel!_

´Well, there you have it,´ she said quietly, offering him a little smile.

He captured her lips in a swift, deep kiss that ended far too quickly when they heard voices nearing the cloakroom. Together they made their way out of teashop and unto the street. To their surprise they were greeted by a heavy downpour. Unclasping his large umbrella, he offered her his arm, holding the umbrella over them to protect them from the elements. Walking closely together with the enormous umbrella just above their heads, they imagined themselves quite alone. ´I love you,´ he murmured near her ear, his free hand coming to rest on the small of her back to guide her over the slippery wet pavement.

Her heart soared at his declaration, uttered so honestly, without a trace of guilt. Standing still on a quiet street corner, she gave him a radiant, happy smile and placed her hand on the side of his face. ´I love you too.´

He took his time to kiss her now, slowly and intensely, delighting in her response. Rubbing his hand leisurely up and down her back in lazy circles he pulled her close while the rain continued to pour down on them, being aware of nothing else then her and their own small, dry, world underneath the umbrella.

They walked slowly back to her inn after that, taking two hours just to make it to there from the teashop, completely lost in each other and their new-found love. And it was another half hour before Isobel finally went upstairs, her lips tingling from his kisses and her heart filled with his promises and declarations.

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you enjoyed reading this more-or-less angst free chapter as much I enjoyed writing it!<strong>


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25  
><strong>_Thursday 21st July 1917_

It was difficult to comprehend how very different his life had been when he´d walked here only four months ago. It seemed so much longer than that, but as he walked the familiar streets, it all came back so vividly. He and Anna had walked almost the same route that day, her hand firmly clasped in his, and he had believed then that everything would be alright. How much his life had changed since that day. Trying with all his might to hold on the more positive feeling he´d had the day before, John forced his thoughts back to the present. There were always people worse off than he was, he only had to think of the visit he´d brought that morning to be remembered of that. First he would visit his mother to reassure her and tomorrow he would begin to build his life back together. In the distance he could hear a factory bell toll and soon the streets were filled with people, anxious to get home to their dinners, their families and their homes. Maybe in a few days from now that would be him as well.

Opening the door of his parental home, he walked straight to the living room, expecting his mother there, sitting in her armchair or at the table. By no means was he prepared for the sight that greeted him. His mother was indeed sitting in her armchair, but next to her, on a low stool sat Lady Sybil, holding her hand and talking softly to her. Near the window, Mr Crawley was nervously pacing up and down.

´What´s going on?´ he asked rather bluntly from the shock of it.

`John!´

´Bates!´

´Mr Bates!´ Three voices cried in unison, shock and relief evident in them. He saw his mother turn pale, her hand grasping her chest, swaying slightly.

´Mother!´ he was at her side instantly, bending down at her chair. ´Are you alright?´

´Where on earth have you been?´ she asked, her voice weak but angry. ´We´ve been worried sick about you!´

He noticed the letter he´d send three days ago on her lap and cringed. ´I´m sorry to have worried you so,´ he told her earnestly. ´I should have written when I was more calm, more collected.´

Margaret Bates swallowed with great difficulty, her nerves still in a turmoil after the events of the day. ´You had me believing…´ unable to finish the sentence, she fell silent.

´What?´ he asked worried himself now.

´You were gone for two days, no-one knew where you were!´ Lady Sybil admonished him, sounding every bit as angry as his mother. ´We thought…´

´We thought you´d done something very stupid.´ Matthew said, speaking up for the first time.

Comprehension dawned on his face and John took his mother´s hand. ´Ma..´ upon seeing her distressed state he reverted to the addressing of his childhood. ´You know me better than that. I wouldn´t do that to you. Don´t you think that Irish, Catholic upbringing was good for something?´

She smiled feebly at that. ´Well… I know you were hurting. With Vera back and everything…´

´Yes well,´ he sighed deeply, ´about that…´

´About that…´ Matthew cut in. ´I think you better sit down.´

For the third time that day Matthew related the story of how he and Sybil had come across Vera´s grave in New York and how they had found out the truth from Jeremy O´Malley, Mrs Brooke and eventually Marjory Harris.

Sybil watched the emotions play across his face as Matthew told his tale. At first his face remained impassive as if he didn´t dare to believe what he was hearing. But as the story progressed to the part where they had visited the orphanage she could see his eyes widening and when Matthew told him about Marjory he gasped out loud. And when he related everything they had learned from Marjory that morning she could see understanding dawning in his eyes. After Matthew was finished with his story, he remained silent for a long time.

´A part of me knew something was off,´ he eventually said softly. ´She had changed so much that she looked like a different person to me. But I chalked it off on the fact that I hadn´t seen her for ten years. I was bewildered when she couldn´t seem to remember small things, but I never really questioned it. And then she kept insisting that I had left her, kept repeating it…´

´She accused you of leaving her?´ Sybil asked in surprise, remembering a particular part of the conversation of that morning.

´She did,´ John nodded. ´We have fought so much in the last months, but it always came down to that, that I´d left her. And I never really understood.´

´I think she was blaming herself more than she was blaming you,´ Sybil said thoughtfully. ´She feels guilty about leaving Vera behind in the orphanage. It was Marjory who had abandoned her.´

´What will happen to Marjory now? John asked. ´How will this affect…´ the unfinished question hung in the air, hope starting to simmer through his intense gaze.

´We have offered her to go to New York,´ Matthew replied. ´She´s anxious to see her niece. It´s all of Vera she has left. Unless of course you want to lay charges against her?´

´No- no let her go to New York,´ John replied hastily. He shook his head, his mind still processing everything. ´I can´t condemn her really… perhaps I got what I deserved as well… If she wants to go to New York and start over her life then I won´t stop her.´

New York… Anna… starting over… suddenly he was filled with a nervous anxiety. Getting to his feet he spoke hurriedly. ´I need to return to Downton immediately. I have to talk to Anna …´

´Anna!´ Sybil exclaimed. ´Goodness, I forgot…´

´She should have been back by now,´ Mrs Bates chipped in, glancing worriedly at the door. ´She´s been gone for almost an hour now.´

His mind still in overdrive from everything he´d heard in the last hour, he immediately caught on. ´Anna is here?´ he exclaimed, looking frantically across the room.

´She came with us,´ Matthew explained quickly. ´She knew where your mother lived… but she went out for a walk an hour ago, she was rather upset.´

´I´ll have to find her… I have to talk to her…´ he was already at the door when his mother´s voice called him back.

´John,´ she asked urgently. ´You promised… as soon as you were free from Vera, you´d marry her!´

The smile that broke on his face seemed to grow until his entire face was filled with happiness. ´Well, provided that she´ll still have me, you´d better save the Sunday two weeks from this.´

* * *

><p>Once outside he stopped for a second, trying to envision where she might have gone to. A thought stuck him and he immediately set off. His heart was heavy with everything he had heard and had been unravelled this afternoon, but his mind was entirely focused on Anna. On finding her, on making right all the pain he had caused her.<p>

The rose garden was in full bloom now and the fragile, sweet scent of the roses filled the air. The small park was deserted and he spotted her instantly once he had passed underneath the entrance arch. She was sitting on one of the stone benches. Her back was perfectly straight, but her head was bowed and she held her hat in in hands, her fingers nervously toying with the ribbon.

´Anna!´ His voice was hoarse and low, but carried through the garden nevertheless. He watched as her head shot up and her eyes grew large and disbelieving. Her lips were mouthing his name, but no sound came forward. She rose to her feet shakily, her hat falling to the ground to be forgotten and suddenly the air was filled with her cry: ´John!´

She ran towards him and he caught her in his arms, almost knocked back by the force with which she collided against him. Slipping his arms around her waist and back, he held her shaking body against her. ´John…. John… I was so scared… you were gone…´ She kissed his cheeks, his lips, his chin, wherever she could reach him, sobbing wildly.

´Anna, my love… I´m here… it´s going to be alright, sweetheart…´ He cupped her face in his large hands and kissed her trembling mouth. ´I love you,´ he whispered against her lips, before he claimed them fully. She responded frantically to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, tears still streaming down her face. It took several minutes before her agitation subsided and she relaxed against him. When she laid her hand across his chest and as his kiss turned more tender, she could feel his erratic heartbeat under her palm, much like hers. And yet it was his heart, beating close to her own, that finally made her feel whole again.

When their kiss ended, he brushed the tears away from her face. Soon he found himself leaning in again to kiss the salty traces from her cheeks. ´I´ll never make you cry again, I swear,´ he murmured against her skin.

´Just don´t ever leave me again,´ she sighed, burying her noise in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent, hugging him to her.

´Never!´ His voice was husky with emotion. ´Never again!´ He captured her mouth again, his passion flaring suddenly, desperate to feel her, to taste her, to claim her back. When the need for air finally forced them to break apart, he continued to shower her face with soft kisses.

´It´s over!´ he whispered against her eyebrow.

She gazed lovingly at him. ´You´re a free man.´

´I´m yours,´ he corrected happily, closing his eyes as her fingers trailed his cheek.

When he opened them again he was greeted by the sight of her warm, radiant smile and he basked in it. ´I´m going to tell the world I love you, no more secrets.´ The happiness was spreading rapidly through her voice. Unable to resist he bent down once more to kiss her.

´We´ll have a home,´ he told her, his heart warming as her eyes became dreamy. ´A place of our own… just you and me.´

´And lots of boys,´ she continued, ´I want boys with your eyes and your smile. And some of your cheek.´

He laughed out loud at that, pulling her close again. ´I´ll keep them in check for you. Can we have one girl though? One that looks just like you? That I can spoil rotten?´

She grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck. ´Just one then,´ she relented. ´As long as you spoil me every once in a while as well.´

´Oh, don´t you worry about that,´ he kissed her thoroughly until her head started to spin. ´I´ll find my ways.´

Snuggling in his arms, she whispered quietly against his chest: ´This is real, isn´t it?´

´It is,´ he assured her as he tightened his grip on her and kissed the top of her head. ´It´s all very real.´

* * *

><p>He lay awake for most of the night, in one of the upstairs rooms of his mother´s home, too riled up and awake from all the excitement to settle down. He found himself thinking very little about the past months or Marjory. Instead his thoughts were focused on the future, on Anna. And for the first time he allowed himself fully to indulge in the dreams of what their life could be, would be, now that he was truly free from the regrets and shackles of his past. When he finally did sleep, he slept deeply and undisturbed. And although he woke after only a few hours, he felt more rested then he had in a long time. He was up when the first light of dawn broke and filled his time with all the chores and occupations he could think of. He dressed and shaved with care, read the paper, took the milk in, fetched groceries and got on his mother´s nerves until around half an hour past eight she told him gently it might be time to call on Anna.<p>

It was a thirty minute walk to Grantham house and upon arriving, the housekeeper informed him Anna would be down shortly. He waited in the hallway, barely able to contain his joy, his eagerness to see her and to have her in his arms again. After a few minutes she came down the stairs, dressed in a light blue dress and a white pelisse and he was once again overwhelmed with happiness. She was here and she was his. And he would never have to let her go again. She stopped on the stairs, a few steps above the ground and just stared at him, her face filled with incredulous joy and wonderment. He stared back, equally frozen for a moment, trying to comprehend once again that this was real.

´Come here,´ he whispered huskily when he simply couldn´t bear the distance between them any longer. She fell into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and kissing him soundly. There was a familiarity between them now, he realized while he pulled her close, his hands roaming on her waist. But he would never get enough.

´Good morning…´ she whispered breathlessly after quite some time.

He wasn´t ready yet to let her go, so he continued to hold her and stroke her face, drinking in the sight of sparkling eyes and red lips. ´Did you sleep alright?´ he asked softly, his hand moving into her hair to play with the soft strands.

´I slept like a ton of bricks,´ she answered, ducking her head and blushing. ´I´m just up actually, I even haven´t had my coffee yet.´

He followed her to the deserted kitchen of Grantham House, still holding her hand. He found he couldn´t bear the loss of her touch any longer. Sipping their coffee at the table, hands still intertwined, they discussed their plans for the day.

´Mr Crawley wants to return to Downton this afternoon,´ Anna told him, ´so we have the morning to ourselves.´

That certainly came as a nice surprise. A plan instantly formed in his head. Taking both her hands in his he began to tell her of the letter he had received a month ago and the visit he´d brought the day before, explaining to her that this had been partly what he meant by the business he needed to sort out. As he expected her eyes first widened at the news and then she became practically beamed with happiness.

´ This is going to bring so much joy to so many people,´ she said excitedly, squeezing his hand tightly.

´It´s nothing short of a miracle,´ he agreed, gazing at her lovingly, just happy to see her happy. ´But he´s still in a bit of state,´ he warned. ´Not as bad as Mr Crawley was, but still… he might need some convincing.´

She was already up, a determined look on her face. ´Let´s go and see him now and he can return with us this afternoon.´

How he loved her compassion, her determination to see other people happy. She made an attempt to move away, but he was still holding her hand.

´John…´ a grin formed on her face. ´I have to get upstairs to get my things.´

He nodded, but didn´t move a muscle.

´John…´ she tugged his hand, ´you need to let me go for a second.´

Her grin was infectious and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from grinning as well. Instead of releasing her he pulled her close once more and stifled her giggle with his mouth.

* * *

><p>Eventually though they made it outside and took a cab to Charing Cross hospital. John let her through the halls to the ward he´d visited the previous day. Just outside Anna looked at him questionably. ´John… you said he was in a bit of a state. What did you mean by that?´<p>

´He´s just worried,´ he answered. ´He has sustained quite a few injuries and he worries people will look at him differently because of it. But I believe seeing you will help him a great deal.´

They entered the ward and John walked up to one of the beds in the middle of the row. ´Good morning,´ he greeted.

The figure on the bed turned and for a second Anna gasped as she saw the violent red scars and maimed skin covering his left cheek. But the next moment it didn´t matter anymore, all that became important was the man lying there, alive and breathing.

´William!´ she cried, reaching out to hug him gently. The young, gawky man returned her embrace awkwardly, apparently as surprised as she was. Sinking down on one of chairs near the bed, Anna continued to stare at him, not quite believing her eyes. When William attempted to cover up the wounded side of his face, she calmly pulled his hand down. ´It´s a miracle you´re alive,´ she said softly. ´What happened to you?´

Shifting his gaze, William looked questioningly at John. ´Didn´t you tell her?´

´Not the part about what happened to you in France,´ he replied. ´And for the record, I think this is a pretty good sample of the welcome you can expect when you return to Downton.´

Sighing deeply, William decided to leave that discussion for a later moment and to tell his story first. ´We were at Verdun and there was an attack… I was on the ground with a few other men from our battalion, we were advancing on the Germans when all of a sudden a grenade hit us. The man lying next to me got the full blow. Suddenly there was fire everywhere and he was burning. I took off the jacket of my uniform to wrap it around him, to stop him from burning but…´ a painful expression crossed William´s face. ´I was too late… no matter what I tried, the jacket caught fire as well and he burned to death.´

Anna realized the wound on this side of his face were actually scars from burning and when she looked down at his hands she noticed they were scarred as well.

´When I realized I couldn´t help him anymore I tried to retreat and return to my battalion.´ William continued his story, ´but the Germans were coming nearer and cut me off. I lost my orientation then and I just ran and ran. I remember seeing a village in the distance and some farms closer by… suddenly there was a heavy explosion and I fell to the ground. I don´t remember anything after that for a long time.

I was told later that I was found by the owner of a nearby farm, lying unconscious and severely wounded in the field. He took me home and his wife nursed me. I don´t remember anything of that time though. Apparently I had received a blow to my head and for a long time I didn´t know who I was, or where I came from. My first memories start after I had been there for several months. Helping Monsieur Doucette at the farm, sitting in the kitchen with Madame Doucette… they never minded I didn´t seem to remember anything. They were kind people, but very private… they always kept to themselves. They wanted to have to do as little as possible with the war. I suppose that´s why they never alerted the army. They taught me to speak a little French, so I could talk with them and all through the winter I just lived there.

Then one day this spring, Monsieur Doucette came home with flowers for his wife. He brought her daisies…´ William´s face turned soft and wistful and he gazed in the distance. ´And all of a sudden memories started to come back… I remembered Daisy… her face, her smile…´

Anna clutched John´s hand tightly, a lump forming in her throat, not sure if she wanted to smile or cry.

´After that more memories came back. I remembered my name, I started to remember places and events. I had dreams and nightmares… Once I knew, I wanted to return. I knew Monsieur and Madame Doucette were sorry to see me go, but I knew where my duties lay. I returned to the army… they were so surprised to see me. I found out that they had thought the man I had been trying to save was in fact me. They had found my name on him, I suppose because he had my jacket around him. I was in no fit state to return to the battlefield, so they send me here instead.´

´But why didn´t you come home?´ Anna asked incredulously. ´Why didn´t you return to Downton?´

´Because…´ William paused. ´It´s hard to explain. When I returned many things in my mind were still blurred. I wasn´t completely sure that I really was William Mason. And knowing you all believed me to be dead… I was afraid that if I returned I would find out that I wasn´t who I thought I was…. I´m not explaining myself well, but…´ William shook his head, obviously frustrated with himself.

´I think you do,´ John replied reassuringly. ´I think none of us can fully understand what it´s like to lose your memory like that. You were cautious and that is only to be admired.´

´But then you wrote to John,´ Anna asked, looking between the two men.

´I had to know,´ William replied. ´And I remembered Mr Bates. I remembered he was kind to me when I was at Downton and I knew he´d been through a war. He came to see me yesterday and recognized me instantly. That´s when I knew for certain who I was.´

´And I´ve been trying to tell him that he should return to Downton as soon as possible.´ John answered, looking pointedly at William.

´Of course he should!´ Anna exclaimed. ´Why ever not?´

´Well…´ William replied hesitantly. ´I´d like to see my father, but Downton… look at me, I could never be a footman now…´

´Do you think they´ll even bother about that?´ Anna asked, almost indignant. ´They´ll be so happy to see you, you have no idea. Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes will be so happy… and Mr Crawley! He remembers you well… he´s been singing your praises for months. And Daisy… oh goodness, she will be over the moon!´

´But I´m still not allowed to leave the hospital,´ William protested. ´I can't return to Downton yet.´

´Nonsense,´ Anna replied, waving her hand. ´Downton is a convalesce home now, you can recover there.´

´But look at how I look now,´ William tried again. ´Won´t the shock be too great?´

´They´ll be too busy and too happy to notice,´ Anna answered instantly. ´Besides, we´ve seen much worse this past years.´

William opened his mouth to make another objection, but he was interrupted by John´s laughter. ´Lad, you can discuss with Anna for hours, but no matter what argument you´ll bring forth, she´ll have a retort.´ His tone was teasing, but his eyes were shining with love and admiration. ´So save your breath and just come home with us.´

William watched as John slid his arm around Anna´s waist and pulled her close, his brow furrowing. ´Wait a minute…´ he said slowly. ´Didn´t you tell me yesterday your wife had returned?´

John and Anna then proceeded to tell William everything that had happened to them over the past days and William proved to be an excellent listener to their story, gasping in all the right places and being genuinely happy in the end that everything had turned out so well. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he wouldn´t be the only one who had a lot to tell and explain on his return that made it easier for him, but in the end he agreed to come home with them that same day.

* * *

><p>Having lowered the roof of the car, Sybil drove a full car back to Downton at a leisurely pace. It was a bit of a squeeze with five people, but everyone was just too relieved and happy to be bothered by it. She glanced sideways at her husband every now and then and her heart warmed at she saw how thoroughly content and pleased he looked. He had been elated when he´d heard William was alive and in London. He had insisted on joining Bates and Anna when they collected him from Charing Cross hospital, his heartfelt delight at seeing his former war comrade a confirmation for William that he had indeed made the right choice to return home. She smiled as she heard William ask Anna for the fourth time if Daisy would truly be happy to see him back and if she wouldn´t mind his scars.<p>

´William, only yesterday she told me she´d rather hold on to the memory of you then to start looking for another man,´ Anna replied convincingly. ´She never forgot you and she´ll be jumping for joy. Literally.´

All of a sudden, Sybil pressed the gas pedal firmly, causing the car to shoot forwards. They were going home. And all would be well.

* * *

><p><em>AN: All things considered, I think I´m more of a fluff-writer than an angst-writer. I know that bringing William back was more then a little cheesy, but chapter four (where he and Branson ´die´) was the hardest chapter of all to write - so I did it as a bit of a treat to myself.  
>I´ll post the final chapter, in which everyone will make an appearance, tomorrow. <em>


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26  
><strong>_August 1918_

Standing on the platform of Downton station, John watched the heavy train from London rode in. For a moment all he could see was smoke and hear the screeching noises of a train coming to a halt. Then the doors opened and he stepped forward to help his mother down the steps. She had aged in the past year, looking even smaller than before and needing a cane now as well to keep her balance. Still, her mind and her mouth were as sharp as ever. He leaned in to kiss her cheek and offered her his arm, but she drew back and looked at him critically. He was dressed in regular attire, just trousers, a cream coloured shirt and a jacket. He had a bit of tan. He looked as if he didn´t have a care in the world.

´You look well,´ she eventually concluded, satisfied.

´What did you expect?´ he asked smiling. He smiled easily these days, she was pleased to notice.

´Come on,´ she told him, tugging his arm. ´I want see your wife and your home.´

While they drove through the village he pointed out the interesting spots. Among them was a redbrick building. ´That´s the new school,´ he told her. ´It will open at the start of September for boys and girls from the village once they´ve turned six.´

Margaret Bates looked suspiciously at her son, but his face remained perfectly even. ´That´s interesting,´ she replied eventually.

´It is,´ he nodded calmly. Only when she looked away he allowed himself a small grin.

Finally the car stopped and after having thanked Edward Black, Downton's new chauffeur, John helped his mother out of the car. She looked around her expectantly.

´Just a minute,´ he told her, enjoying her eagerness. ´It´s just around the corner, but the car can´t turn there.´

Their home. Anna´s and his. Sometimes he still had a little trouble believing it. It was the same cottage he´d lived in with Vera, or rather Marjory. At first he had silently feared that staying there would mean the memories would remain with him always. But Anna´s enthusiasm to turn it into a home for them had quickly dispelled any worries he had. She´d filled every room with her presence, their happiness and an endless stream of flowers, curtains, pillows, rugs and what not. He never quite know how she managed it, but she turned what previously had been a hellhole into a palace, into their safe haven and he loved her all the more for it.

Ever since their marriage he was walking on air. It was in the simplest things. Waking up with her in his arms. Having dinner together, just the two of them. Seeing her at Downton as she passed him in a corridor, knowing that he could fully express his love for her later that night in the privacy of their home. He´d vowed to make her happy and he tried every day to live up to that promise. At first they´d still needed to work through some things. Their engagement had been short and had passed in a happy, almost delirious blur. It wasn´t until after their wedding day that he found out just how much she had been hurting in the past months. Suddenly Anna had been the one who´d became cautious, almost afraid their happiness wouldn´t last. It tore at his heart to see her like that and it had been his turn to reassure her again and again that nothing could come between them again. That he wouldn´t let anything get between them again. In a way it had been a lesson for him as well. To not let get his protectiveness of her get in the way of being completely honest and open with her.

The sight that greeted him when they finally rounded the corner still took his breath away. Would probably always do just that. She looked more beautiful than ever, especially now. From the corner of his eye he noticed his mother coming to a stand, her eyes growing large.

´We have a bit of a surprise for you,´ he told her casually. With six months, the bump was clearly visible and apart from that, Anna was practically radiant.

´Oh dearie, I´m so pleased!´ Her eyes turning moist, Margaret Bates fiercely hugged the woman she´d come to love as a daughter. Throwing a look basck at her son she asked, ´Is he being helpful at all?´

´Yes, he is!´ Anna replied, laughing happily. ´He´s very helpful. If I let him he´d make sure I didn´t lift a finger.´ She let the elder woman take her inside and listened to her excited chatter.

Well, they certainly managed to make his mother happy, John realized, slightly astonished. Within minutes she was seated at the table and knitting the first pair of baby socks.

* * *

><p>The annual garden party was in full swing and Violet Crawley was sitting underneath a large parasol, gazing fondly into the bassinet at her side. Little Violet Strallan was in every way perfect. So much had changed in the past years and she found she could barely keep up with all of it and not approve at any of it. Women were driving motorcars and the aristocracy mingled with servants as if they were friends. With her eyebrows raised she watched Sybil talking excitedly to a woman – wasn´t she head housemaid here once, before some scandal erupted? – and even go as far as hugging her at one point. Then again, Sybil never had much regard for the rules of proper behaviour. It seemed to be a rather infectious phenomenon these days. Even respectable widows no longer felt any scruples to get entangled in new romances. Violet threw an angry look at Isobel Wellington. Really, getting married again at her age! Turning her attention back to the bassinet again, she smiled smugly. This little girl would be a beacon in a time of moral uproar and degradation. She would personally make sure of it.<p>

* * *

><p>Watching Sybil walk away, a definite bounce in her step, Anna felt rather relieved she was no longer a housemaid. She remembered well how busy the day of the garden party was and in her condition she wasn´t sure if she would have been able to up and running all day. She grinned slightly as she saw Daisy sneaking behind the stables, carefully holding a wrapped up towel. No doubt she was going to bring William some sort of treat.<p>

She still smiled as she remembered his return to Downton a little over a year ago. On the way back in the car they had agreed that it would be better if someone would tell Daisy first, before she actually got to see William and she had been the one who got to tell her. As long as she lived she would remember the look of pure joy that filled Daisy face when she heard her William was not only alive and more or less healthy, but was also home. To her it didn´t matter anymore what had happened or how it had happened, she only cared about seeing him as soon as she could. A little hesitantly William had walked in the kitchen and for a moment Anna had feared that the sight of his burned face would be too much for Daisy. But the most amazing thing had happened: Daisy had looked at the man she´d been sure never to see again and she hadn´t seen any of the wounds or the alterations. In her perception he hadn´t altered at all and in an instant they had become William and Daisy again, young and shy and very, very happy. The war and the effects of it had melted away in seconds and William had been truly home.

He didn´t became a footman again, although even Carson wouldn´t have minded the scars. Mr Crawley had taken an interest in breeding horses and William had immediately been appointed as stable master for this project. He thrived at his new job and with this new security he had proposed to Daisy instantly. They were to be married at Michaelmas.

* * *

><p>Anna was so busy watching William and Daisy, she never noticed she was being watched herself. From his strategic point underneath the main tent, Robert could oversee the entire garden. He shook his head ruefully as he realized he still couldn´t really look at Anna or Bates without feeling a tinge of shame and regret. When he was told about the scam Marjory Harris had played on his valet he had known that he was in part to blame for her success as well. Would things have been different if he had investigated the matter more thoroughly? If he hadn´t pressured Bates to return to his wife, would she have left him alone eventually? He had been so eager then to solve the situation, but somehow, without him really noticing the world had changed and the manners of approach that had worked so well for his father and for him for such a long time were no longer adequate. The world had changed so much since the war. Was it only four years ago he had announced the start of it, effectively ruining the day then? Today was just like that day, the same sunny weather and carefree atmosphere. Yet it felt like a lifetime had passed between the two occasions and sometimes he couldn´t help but feel that his active part in it was nearing its end. It was Matthew´s turn now to see Downton through the next decades.<p>

* * *

><p>Sybil was ready to scream her secret to the world. She had already told Anna, couldn´t help herself but confide in the other woman she now felt so close to. It would bring a lot of happiness, she was sure of it. Her parents would be absolutely thrilled. She watched as her mother walked up to her father and slid her hand around his elbow. Resting her head against his shoulder she looked so happy and secure, Sybil suddenly found herself fighting back her tears. Shaking her head at herself she sighed. She certainly had become more emotional of late. If she and Matthew would be half as happy in thirty years as her parents were now she would count herself very blessed. Perhaps she didn´t always see eye to eye with her parents, perhaps she and Matthew would make many different choices, perhaps they would have a different marriage then her parents had, but Sybil resolved to be just as happy.<p>

* * *

><p>They were made for each other, Isobel Wellington realized as she observed her children. She grinned amused as she watched them looking at each other. Propriety dictated they both had their own circle of guests to greet, but they kept communicating with each other with their eyes. Looking at them, Isobel felt her suspicion grew. Matthew´s stares were certainly happy, but also worried and a tad protective. Sybil was just beaming every time she looked at her husband. If she wasn´t very much mistaken, their happiness would be increase very soon.<p>

Before she even saw him, she could feel Timothy coming to stand behind her. Looking up in the steel blue eyes she adored even more than two years ago, she grinned at him.

Bending his head down he asked softly: ´And what are you so happy about?´

Her grin widening, she stood on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear: ´Have you ever considered yourself as a grandfather?´

His eyes turned wide and there was such a look of utter shock on his face that she couldn´t help herself. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. It was a testament to how great his surprise was that it actually took him a full minute before he responded to her.

* * *

><p>Rocking the small boy on her hip, Elsie snorted quietly as she watched her friend and her husband of three months, from her secluded corner. Really, one of these days Isobel was going to be the death of that man. He regularly looked as if he didn´t know just what had hit him. Still, there was no doubt in her mind that they were happy together, no matter how different they were. At first Elsie had worried a bit about their opposing dispositions. Isobel was outgoing, affectionate and quite frank in the way she showed her husband just how much she loved him. He in turn was still rather guarded. One had to get to know him rather well to be able to read his emotions. But apparently Isobel could read him like a book and his private nature didn´t seem to bother her at all. She simply became affectionate enough for both of them. Once Elsie had asked her friend if she didn´t mind it, but Isobel had shook her head decidedly. ´I know he loves me, Elsie,´ she had answered, blushing slightly. ´Believe me I do. And he makes me very happy.´<p>

Turning her attentions back to the little boy in her arms, she cooed quietly, ´How about we find Mr Carson then, little lad?´ When the baby mumbled happily, showing his toothless grin Elsie laughed softly. ´Do that to him and he´ll let you call him uncle Charlie for certain.´ She gasped in surprise when she felt a pair of big hands on her shoulders, pulling her close.

´Don´t you listen to a word your mad auntie Elsie tells you,´ Charles grumbled in a low voice, earning a delighted giggle from the toddler. Letting him to take the little boy over, Elsie draped her arms around his waist, allowing herself to feel ridiculously happy.

* * *

><p>It was nice to be back again, Mary mused. It wasn´t home anymore. Home was New York now, but it was her childhood. And she found that showing her son her childhood home, even though he was probably too young to remember any of it, made her very happy. Little Walter, named after George´s father, had been an instant favourite among the staff, especially with Carson and Mrs Hughes. They practically doted on him, leaving her nursemaid virtually without employment. They would have made adorable grandparents, Mary realized, particularly amused at the playful side that emerged in Mr Carson as she watched him interact with her son. She was glad he was enjoying her visit and spending time with Walter so much. He had been one of the persons she had missed most when she had gone to New York. She had even worried about him a bit until a few days ago. Smiling softly she tucked the memory away in her heart. She wouldn´t tell a soul what she´d seen, but it had definitely been memorable.<p>

About a week after her arrival at Downton she had gotten out of bed a little after midnight, craving hot chocolate. She knew she could have easily rung the bell for some, but to be honest, apart from being thirsty she was also nostalgic. She remembered the times when she had sat at the table in the servants hall late at night and unable to sleep when she was a girl. Mr Carson had always been the one to fix her up with a steaming mug of hot chocolate and his kindness. The memories of her sitting there, sipping the hot liquid while he was busy polishing shoes or checking the silverware and telling her stories of brave knights and princesses were among the happiest of her childhood.

When she had descended from the stairs to the servant hall she had been relieved to see light still burning there. Feeling a little insecure all of a sudden – after all, she was no longer a little girl anymore, she had peeked cautiously around the door. The scene she had witnessed had taken her breath away. Mr Carson and Mrs Hughes were dancing slowly through the otherwise deserted servant´s hall. Her hand caught in his, his arm securely around her waist and her head resting comfortable at his chest. He was softly singing the tune of some ancient song and in the back of her mind it registered that he had quite a lovely singing voice. The scene she witnessed was so incredibly tender and intimate that she couldn´t bear to spy on them for much longer. Closing the door again without making a sound, she made her way upstairs again, a happy grin plastered across her face. Crawling back in bed again, she snuggled closely against her husband. She had never knew, never suspected it even. And yet it made all the sense in the world.

* * *

><p>Matthew managed to gather everyone´s attention by tapping a spoon to the side of his glass. He looked around the garden filled with family, friends, staff and neighbours and felt his heart swell with love and pride as he realized this was now truly and completely his home.<p>

´I´ll promise to keep this short,´ he began, collecting an appreciative chuckle from the crowd. ´Actually, I only have two things to say. First of all that Lady Sybil and I are both very happy to spend this beautiful day with you and secondly…´ he glanced down at Sybil´s face, seeing his own happiness reflected in her eyes. Bending down he kissed her quickly before he returned his attention to the gathering again. ´Secondly… we are thrilled to announce that God willing, in six months from now we will welcome an addition to our family.´

His words caused a loud cheer to erupt, followed by a lot of excited chatter, varying from complete surprise to triumphant: ´What did I tell you!´ When Matthew finally found he could make himself be heard again, he rose his glass, the wine sparkling in the sunlight.

´To Downton!´

Dozens of glasses rose in response as well as the words rang over the grounds:

´To Downton!´

* * *

><p><em>AN: Pheeewww... I made it! A couple of days before the start of season 2. I had *so* much fun writing this story!  
>But without my absolutely wonderful beta <em>**stuckinpast**_ I could never have done it. Apart from proof-reading the story she also helped me out a lot with ´keeping it British´ _

_Thank you all for reading, reviewing, PM-ing and all the alerts I´ve got! They´ve always made my day. I´m keeping my fingers crossed for an enormous plot-bunny attack once season 2 starts! _


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